


The Cowboy Way

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Gen, Humor, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-09-03
Updated: 2001-09-03
Packaged: 2018-11-11 03:09:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11139915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: In this AU fic, Fraser is the new sheriff and the Rays are deputized to straighten out a lawless town.





	The Cowboy Way

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

  
The Cowboy Way

## The Cowboy Way

by Laura Lee Snowee

Author's website: http://snowee.50megs.com

Disclaimer: Alliance owns the DS world, but my ideas are my own.

Author's Notes: Thanks to RSY who let me fic 'em and made the challenge.

Story Notes: 

* * *

1  
A hard spring rain had settled the dust and put most people indoors for shelter when the dark-haired man rode into town. His blue eyes surveyed the scene, one contrary to the what he'd expected. Water settled on the brim of his hat and he was soaked through. A chill was beginning in his bones, the temperature dropping the longer the sun stayed hidden. Beneath the horse hooves, sticky mud made their progress slow; a sloshing and sucking sound announcing their way. 

When the territorial governor called Benton Fraser into his cozy office, Benton expected a full reprimand for the arrest and conviction of a fellow government official which he'd largely executed. Standing before the tall, aging man, he found that a reprimand wasn't going to appease Governor Keeley. Even with Benton's father's best friend, Buck, recommending leniency, Keeley was set to send Benton into the foray known as Gochick Canyon. 

Benton had heard tales of Gochick, a small town grown from the mining of silver. Now that the Canyons seemed to have given all the silver they held, the town had become a lawless area run by outlaws rather than a lazy drunken sheriff. 

Glancing in the window of the saloon, Benton first noticed a pair of wide eyes watching him. Examining the face of the lovely woman, he took note of the dark hair and revealed neck. Looking further down, he saw that the neck wasn't the only skin visible and, barely taking a moment to note the way she leaned back to give full reference to her breasts, he snapped his head forward and looked ahead to the shingle which read 'Sheriff'. Approaching slowly, he dismounted, throwing his legs forward to land on the warped wood walkway. Wrapping the ropes of the horse around the hitching post, he turned and looked inside the bubble-like window. One man sat in a chair, his feet on the desk before him and his mouth wide open as his head sloshed back. Benton could hear the man snoring before he opened the door. 

Sheriff Benton Fraser stepped up to the man and cleared his throat. The man didn't budge. Glancing at the desk, Benton was quick to see why. An empty bottle of whisky rolled gently back and forth when Benton pushed the man's feet off the desk. Although he'd observed his badge, Benton gave the man the satisfaction of identifying himself. As he straightened groggily, Benton reached into the pocket of his red shirt and produced a piece of paper. "Are you Jerrard?" 

"Sheriff Jerrard," the man replied in a gruff tone. 

Fraser handed the man the piece of paper and, as he opened it, spoke again. "Then this is for you." He allowed the man to read the paper, then stand. "I would appreciate it if you would gather your possessions and leave by the end of day." 

Jerrard scowled. "This piece of paper means nothing!" 

Benton tugged his ear. "On the contrary. I believe it relieves you of your duties and is signed by a Judge." 

"Well, this Judge Harding Welsh isn't here, now is he? Far as I'm concerned, this means nothing. I'm still sheriff until someone comes and takes my badge." 

"Ah! I see," Fraser said quickly removing Jerrard's badge. "You were only making sure there was someone here to take over your duties. Well, that's why I've been sent here so I assure you, I'll do a good job." 

Jerrard looked angry, but the alcohol had numbed his reflexes and he couldn't think of a response. After a moment, he was able to come up with the response used when words failed him. He drew his gun. Benton grabbed the gun from the pathetic man. "I see no reason to resort to violence." 

Jerrard tried to hold tight, but Benton was younger and stronger and had his senses about him. The rain stopped now, but the clouds remained. Benton stood strong, not letting this minor opponent deter his duty. Jerrard glanced at his empty bottle of whisky and frowned. He wanted another drink more than to stand here arguing with this man. He dropped the paper on the desk and left, stumbling slightly. 

Benton pinned the badge to his pocket and placed his wet hat on a hook behind the desk. Taking a few moments, he cleaned the desk, noting that no personal items were there. In fact, the only thing strewn across the desk was a stack of wanted posters. Making a survey of the office, he saw that none had ever been posted. 

Searching the drawer, he realized the place had never been properly stocked. Looking outside, he saw the sky beginning to lighten. People were slowly moving back into the streets and Benton was amongst them. Heading toward the General Store, he crossed through the mud, carefully stepping where it wasn't deep. He soon realized he should have waited to cross after passing the saloon because a woman leaning on the hitching post quickly threw off her shawl. Benton cleared his throat and looked past her. From the door of the saloon, he then saw the young woman from before peek her head out, then rush out the batwing doors while straightening her corset. She immediately posed and flipped a lock of hair behind her shoulder. 

Benton tried to ignore the woman as he approached, but she moved into his view and smiled. "Hi," she said smoothly. 

He cleared his throat again and stepped to the side. The woman let him pass, keeping a careful eye on his sculpted form. "When you're ready, you just ask for Meg," she said slyly, winking at the man who was not only avoiding looking at her, he was walking faster. 

2  
Browsing the available supplies, Benton bought a few basics for himself and the sheriff's office. He knew that when he walked back outside, it would be difficult to avoid the women on the street. He planned carefully to step out the doors and cross directly to the bank before heading back toward his new office. Feeling more confident, he stepped outside into the sun, only to be greeted by that which he'd originally expected. Two men were fighting and another group was in a brawl. The women stood back, encouraging it to continue. 

Debating only a moment, Fraser could see that the two men were near giving up, but the larger fight was the bigger challenge. Heading for the group, he noted that it seemed to be four against two. The two fought hard, fiercely, but only trying to subdue while the four were out for something much more than blood. 

Stepping firmly into the melee, Benton yelled over the crowd. "You are under arrest!" He heard laughter and took only an instant to glance over his shoulder and see the woman who called herself Meg doubled over. Grabbing one of the less violent pair, he pulled back. The spiky haired blond resisted only a moment before catching a glimpse of the badge. In cooperative fashion, he kicked his partner, a slightly taller man with green eyes and thinning dark hair. The second followed suit, stepping back with Fraser and the blond. The other four found they had no opponents and stood. Simultaneously taking an inventory of his own cuts and bruises, the dark haired one spoke. "We're just cleaning up some trash." 

"You're the trash!" One of the men yelled back, another spitting at the blonde's feet. 

The blond jumped at the man, but Benton stopped him. "All of you will come with me." 

"Who the hell are you?" the blond asked, glaring at the badge Benton now wore. 

"Benton Fraser. I've been sent to replace Sheriff Jerrard." 

The blond grunted. "Last thing we need's another sheriff." 

Fraser reaffirmed his stance. "Come with me," he said again firmly. 

"Look," the dark haired one said. "Let those boys go. We'll take care of them later." 

"You have all broken the law. You'll all come with me," he said, grabbing the dark haired one and one of the others. The latter spat on Fraser's boot. Pulling them along, the others followed reluctantly. As for the group of four, they figured it wouldn't matter. Once this man saw who really was in charge, they figured, they'd be free and he'd be dead, drunk, or run out of town. 

The other two seemed to be completely cooperative. The blond followed the dark brunette all the way. 

Pushing the four into one cell, Benton locked the exit, then pushed the other two into the cell nearest his desk. The blond resisted, but the other grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. 

Benton moved behind the desk, sat, and began to make notes in a small leather-bound book. No one said anything for several minutes, but finally the dark one interrupted Benton's writings. 

"We're glad you're not a drunk," he said at first, smiling a little to ease tension. 

"I would imagine so," Benton replied without looking up. 

The dark one could see that a light, ambiguous approach would not work with this man. "I'm Ray, this is my partner Stan." 

Benton looked over and raised an eyebrow. "Partner?" 

"We've sort of taken over control of the law here," Ray offered as explanation. "You met Jerrard, right?" Benton nodded. "Someone had to do something." 

Before Benton could inquire further, he heard movement at the entrance and turned his head. The moment he saw that it was a modestly dressed lady, he jumped to his feet, as did Ray and Stan. 

"Ma'am?" 

The dark haired woman's face of annoyance changed quickly to a smile. She froze in her steps and stared at the new face. "Hello," she said softly. 

"Francesca!" Ray scolded, then turned to the new sheriff. "Take your eyes off my sister." 

"And my fiance!" Stan chimed in. 

3  
Benton tugged at the collar of his shirt and turned to the two men standing in the cell. Uncomfortable by the position in which he found himself, he said nothing. Ray took that cue and shifted. "As soon as you let us out, we'll..." 

Benton stiffened. "I'm sorry, but you seem to misunderstand. No crimes will be allowed and therefore you will remain here until Judge Welsh comes out this way and sentences the six of you." 

Stan now looked angered. "What? We're helping you, you self righteous..." 

Francesca walked over to the cell and reaching in, placing her hand on Stan's arm. "Come on, now. You both want the same things. Maybe we can all work together." 

Stan stopped, smiled at the woman, then turned to glare at Benton. "You're right, Frannie." 

Ray shifted. "How about this, Sheriff," he began respectfully. "Since we're trying to do the same thing you've been sent to do, we'll make a deal. You let us out and we help you. We'll back you up." 

"I don't make deals," he replied. "The judge will be here in..." 

"He won't," Ray jumped in. "Look, Judge doesn't bother to come out this way anymore. Our crime is minor. We could be in here for months, maybe even a year or more." 

Benton debated his options. With someone to assist in arrests, putting up wanted posters, and general extinguishing of crime, he could imagine things being decent in no time. While he wanted justice, he realized that this was justice the way it would have to be. He walked to the cell. "Deputies?" 

Stan nodded. As soon as Benton opened the door to the cell, one of the other four piped up. "What about us?" 

Stan looked threatening. "What about you? You're not planning on helping stop any of those crimes you've been committing, are ya?" 

"Doesn't matter," the largest of the group said. "We'll be out soon enough anyway." 

"That's what you think," Ray added under his breath before turning to Fraser. "What do you want us to do?" 

Fraser tugged on his ear, sizing up the jobs he needed to accomplish. The spiky blond would be quick to fight, he decided. He needed someone with a slightly more level head until he could get that firecracker to a slower burn. He took the stack of wanted posters and the small bag of tacks he bought at the general store and handed them to Stan. "You hang these, please. I'll take Ray and we'll make a survey of the town." 

Stan stared at the papers. "Tacking posters? Are you kiddin' me?" 

Benton shook his head and left without another word. Ray shrugged at Stan and followed. 

As soon as they stepped into the street, Fraser saw another fight. Running to stop it, he passed them to Ray. 

"Those cells will be full in no time if you plan on arresting everyone around here. You're not going to have anybody left on the streets," Ray said quickly. "What next, the saloon?" 

Benton eyed Ray. "Well, you know, Ray, I was reading the code during my ride and it appears prostitution was made illegal after the mines closed." 

Ray chuckled. "You're kidding me, right? You're joking with all this." 

Benton shook his head. "I believe I saw several pairs of shackles hanging on the wall in the far corner. Perhaps you could bring them with you when you meet me at the saloon." 

Ray shook his head and tugged the two men with him. Fraser headed toward the batwing doors of the saloon. Many women were standing out in the fresh air beckoning him, but while they were on his list, they weren't the first priority. In his experience, most fights started with whisky inside a bar so he knew the best way to stop them was to begin at the source. 

Stepping through the doors, the chink-chink of his spurs were enough to quiet the room. News traveled quickly and they had all been waiting for the moment this over-anxious new sheriff walked into their haven. 

The place was a mess. Half the tables were victims of broken legs, barely standing. Most chairs wobbled horribly. Benton stood firm, observing the place. He noticed movement and looked up to the stairway. There he saw a woman in a gown descending. It was obvious she had the money the other women did not. Keeping near the entrance, Benton moved aside and let her come to him. 

"Well, well, well," she said to him, smiling. "Look what's made its way into my establishment." 

"This is your saloon?" Benton asked, incredulous that a woman owned the place. 

She nodded slowly, letting her eyes drift up and down his body for a moment before looking satisfied. "You ready for a break from your first day in town?" She tapped at his badge with her nail. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm going to have to request that all illegal activity in this establishment cease at this time." 

She chuckled. "Illegal? There's no such thing here." She paused and ran a hand down his chest. Benton tried to move away, but ran his back into the wall instead. "But you'll see that's true soon enough," she hissed. 

Benton cleared his throat once, then again. His face felt warm. Her touch was really getting to him and he turned his eyes away from her. Still, looking away was no help either. The woman who called herself 'Meg' stood near also, smiling and holding a corner of her skirt to her hip, her leg protruding. 

Benton swallowed hard and tried to speak. A few people went back to drinking and gambling, but most were intrigued by the new sport that had apparently been created. 

Just then, Ray stepped into the saloon. He first noticed how quiet and peaceful the place had suddenly become, then saw Fraser pushed up against the wall. He stepped over, one hand carrying shackles as ordered. "Back off," he said to the woman. 

She didn't take her eyes off Benton's deep blue ones and only said, "No." 

Ray pushed at her shoulder. "I said back off." 

"Remove your hands!" she demanded, glaring at Ray. "You'll not lay a finger on me." 

"Listen, Jen, we're cleaning up this place and since you run the saloon, the gambling, and the women around here, you're top of the list." 

Jen frowned and placed her hand on Benton again. Benton squirmed, then grabbed her wrist. "I'm afraid he's right. If you are the one in charge of prostitution and gambling, I'll be forced to place you under arrest." 

Looking defiant, she pulled her hand away. "Go ahead. Arrest me. There's a line a mile long of ladies who would love to take my place." 

"I'd hardly call them ladies," Ray said. 

Benton reached over and took one set of shackles from Ray. "Ma'am," he said, motioning that he wanted to put them on her. 

"Perhaps we should do this up in my room," she suggested smoothly, adding a wink. 

4  
The sky was dark and the jail cells full when Benton finally handed the keys to Stan. Stan smiled at the group amazed, more than anything, at the number of people Fraser had managed to arrest in one day. Everything from murderers to litterers were now behind bars. The first cell had been designated for females and the rest were crowded with men. Benton had quickly sent notification to Judge Welsh that his presence was desired. 

Benton and Ray left the offices, leaving Stan on guard for half the night before Ray would return to take over. 

Alone in the room, Stan used the reflective surface of the window to check his hair. A candle burned on the desktop providing just enough light for him to see Jen move against the bars near him. 

She smiled, hoping that if she played this right, she'd be able to sleep in her own bed tonight. "Hello, Stan," she said seductively. 

Stan looked away. 

"Oh, come on. All you have to do is unlock this silly thing and you can have your pick of any one of my doves." She winked. 

Stan scratched his neck with his thumb. 

"You used to like visiting my establishment." 

Stan glared at her. "Well, now I'm engaged." 

Jen chuckled. "No one has to know, you know. As long as you aren't talking about it, no one will be the wiser." 

Stan shrugged and looked back at the reflection of light flickering in the front window. Suddenly he noticed movement on the other side. A young woman walking alone through the streets was hardly safe. He jumped to his feet and sprinted to the door. 

In the pale light of the moon, he recognized the figure which walked quickly toward the hotel and furrowed his brow. "Frannie?" 

Spinning on her toe, she looked as though she'd been caught mid-crime. "Honey, I was just coming to see you." 

"Where did you think I was?" 

Francesca looked up at the sign above his head and stepped toward him. "I suppose I wasn't paying attention." 

Stan nodded, then stepped back inside the office and held the door until she stepped in also. 

Glancing quickly over the crowded cells, Francesca remained in the corner near the door. 

"You know I don't like you out alone at night," Stan said, smiling gently. 

Francesca pulled her shawl tighter over her shoulders. "Things are safe now, aren't they?" 

Stan nodded reluctantly. "Safer, yeah, but by no means safe. The cattle herd came in tonight which means the cowboys will be in town any time now. They don't know what's up." 

Francesca nodded. "I'm sorry." 

Stan shifted. "You don't have to be sorry, just be careful, ok?" She nodded again. "Now, I'd like to walk you home, but I have to stay here until Ray comes back." 

Francesca smiled. "Where is he? Is he with, you know, the new sheriff?" 

Stan looked out the window, then back to check the cells where everything had quieted. Leaning his hand on the wall beside her head, he smiled back. "Benton? Yeah, the two of them went for dinner at the hotel." 

Francesca nodded slowly. "Well, perhaps I should go join them?" she asked hesitantly. 

Stan smiled and nodded. "That sounds like a good idea." He leaned forward for a gentle kiss, but she moved to the side. 

"Not with everyone watching," she whispered, looking over his shoulder at the cells. 

Stan chuckled, then opened the door for her again and stood in the entrance, watching her walk toward the restaurant on the ground floor of the hotel. Once satisfied that she was safely inside he turned back toward the cells. 

"Isn't that sweet?" Jen said sarcastically. "It really is too bad for you that the new sheriff is so handsome." 

Stan looked annoyed and confused. "What does that mean?" 

"Oh, nothing," Jen replied innocently, then turned back to her girls in the cell, giving them a wink. 

5  
Jerrard could almost be described as sober by his demeanor, but Tim watched him stumble and would still call him drunk. Jerrard had come to Tim, a reputed gunfighter, in the early morning hours. At the time, the man had been babbling and murmuring about a new lawman. After a couple hours of Tim pouring strong coffee into the old man, he was finally beginning to make sense. 

"You say he closed down the saloon?" Tim asked, incredulous and disappointed. 

Jerrard shook his head. "Naw, they're still servin' drinks. Icecat's keeping things going. Some of the girls are still servin' the drinks, but no more gamblin' and no more hanky panky." 

Tim smiled at the foolish words of the man. "Sounds like things have gotten out of control down there." 

Jerrard nodded. "We gotta get some boys together to take care of this bastard." 

"Agreed." Tim responded. "I'll go into town today and take care of him." 

"Not gonna be that easy," Jerrard said. "Seems some of the townsfolk are pretty happy about this new guy. My best men are sittin' in a cell and the rest of the town's behind the sheriff." He paused. "Not to mention his two deputies, Ray and Stan." 

"That guy deputized those two morons?" Tim chuckled. 

"Not such morons when they got law on their side," Jerrard added. "They got badges and respect now. They're not the two guys tryin' to take on the whole town no more. Now they're fightin' in favour of the town an' everybody likes 'em. Everybody who's not in jail, that is." 

"I hear Jim's got a bunch of good men with him these days. I still have plenty, but if the two of us team up, we should be able to get things back to normal," Tim theorized. "You sleep the booze off and I'll get in touch with Jim." 

"I ain't drunk," Jerrard insisted. 

Tim frowned. "Whatever you say, but it doesn't change the fact that you gotta lay off them demons until we fight this war. Got it?" 

Jerrard looked down at the floorboards, then back at Tim. "All right," he finally agreed. 

6  
Benton, Ray, and Stan had established a quiet route through the town. Things were calm and all they were waiting for was the Judge to come clean out the cells. One always stayed at the sheriff's station in charge of the cells while the other two wandered the streets in watch for illegal activity. 

There had been none for over a day. The cowboys came into town quietly, exhausted from the cattle drive, and had made little more than a peep since. 

Ready for a relaxing moment, Ray led Benton into the saloon. Stepping up to the bar, he put a foot on the step and leaned on one elbow. Giving a smile, Ray ordered himself a drink, then turned to Fraser. "What'll you be getting?" 

Benton cleared his throat. "Sarsaparilla, please," he requested. The bartender turned and returned moments later with the two drinks, placing them in front of the respective clients. Ray held his drink and turned, now facing the room. Benton watched him carefully, then leaned on the bar. 

"We've done some pretty amazing cleaning up," Ray stated, filling the silence between them. 

Fraser watched the bartender, then watched the approaching figure in the mirror. He sipped his drink, then turned slowly. 

Icecat moved close, as she always did when speaking with Sheriff Fraser. The intimacy made him uncomfortable, but she always watched her tongue so he could do nothing about it. "Yes," she hissed, smiling at Fraser, but obviously responding to Ray's comment. "Jen will be very glad to see that you've cleaned out the riff raff." 

Ray shifted his attention to Icecat. "Jen is the riff raff," he responded dryly. 

Icecat chuckled simply. "Well, that's debatable. All I know is I haven't had a hand on my ass all day." At that she looked into Benton's eyes, inviting him. 

The sheriff responded by tugging at his shirt collar and stepping away from the bar. Ray chuckled and ducked his head. "'Spose we should get back to our rounds," Ray offered as an escape. Benton nodded agreement, placed his glass on the bar, and strode toward the doors. 

Nearing them, however, he was blocked. Jerrard stumbled in through the doors and, upon seeing his replacement, he straightened. "Well, now. You partaking of the gifts?" 

Benton furrowed his brow in anger. "Jerrard..." 

Ray moved beside Benton. "Well, now, Jerrard. Why don't you get yourself a drink and drop dead." 

With a chuckle, Jerrard steadied his feet and placed a hand on his gun holster. "This is just between you and me, _Sheriff_ ," he hissed. 

"And me and Stan," Ray chimed in. "Between you and the whole town, actually. People finally feelin' safe 'round here." 

Jerrard chuckled. The fools had no idea what was in store for them. They had no idea what was going on in the streets as Jerrard stood there, distracting them. They'd have their town back if it was the last thing they did. Jerrard stepped forward, forcing Benton and Ray backward a step. "You think this can last? There's an element here offering to make me a rich man. I liked gettin' paid for doin' nothin', but I like getting' paid a lot to ruin you even more." 

Ray smiled, mocking Jerrard with the grin. "You're a drunken bastard, Jerrard. Best you can hope for is managing to feed yourself long enough to die of old age." 

Benton, meanwhile, was observing Jerrard and noticing the behaviour. The man had conveniently blocked their exit and was now trying to force them back inside. Squinting, he judged Jerrard's sober appearance, then pushed the man gently aside and rushed out into the street. 

Jerrard tried to stop the sheriff, but was not successful. He followed and when Ray saw this, he followed also. Stepping out, Ray was greeted with the scene. Just out of view from inside the saloon, Seana, a lovely woman who came to town on occasion, was being held by the neck, a gun at her temple. The assailant went unrecognized by Benton, but was quickly identified by Ray. "It's Matt, one of Tim's men," he explained to Benton. The sheriff didn't know much about Tim, but he knew the town had been run by two main factions, those who followed Tim and those who followed a man named Jim. He'd heard only of their cruelty. 

Benton took a step forward and was immediately ordered by Matt not to move. Taking one more step, he was stopped by another sound. Looking to Matt's left, another pair came from a doorway. Fraser furrowed his brow, but the native Ray helped again. "The widow Ellen," he gasped. "That's Tyler. He's from Jim's gang." 

Fraser nodded. This meant the two factions were working together. He gauged the scene, measuring which he could save first and how to save both. Reaching for his gun, Ray placed a hand gently on the weapon, awaiting the orders of his insane superior who chose not to arm himself. Ray and Stan had given their sheriff a lot of flack for it, but in the end, Benton's stubbornness won out. 

Before a decision could be reached in the stand off, a stagecoach rolled quickly toward the men and their horrified captives. It stopped near them; another man at the ready, a woman riding shotgun. The four climbed in quickly and the man whipped the horses, hollering a simultaneous "Yah!" 

Ray ran after them, but couldn't keep up. Benton ran also, at the last moment, jumping onto the rail at the back and hanging tight. Ray watched them disappear into the dust, then ran back to the office, ready to seek Stan's assistance. 

Benton had great difficulty keeping his balance on the rail. There was no handhold so he'd been forced to grasp the edges. The wheels blew dust as high as the coach and he heard a scream from inside the box. Moving to one side, he peered around the stage and watched the path they were taking. Gripping tightly, he managed to remain with them around a corner. Once around the bend, he saw a bump in the road. Preparing for his opportunity, he steadied himself. 

As they went over the bump, he acrobatically used the added turbulence to swing his legs into the air and to the top of the coach. Now grasping the rails, he moved forward. The woman looked back and took aim with her long barreled rifle. Benton had to duck from a shot before getting close enough to grab the rifle. A struggle ensued, but in the end, he threw the rifle from the coach. The woman then pulled a gun and aimed it into the coach, yelling her command. "One more step and I shoot. Only God knows who I'll hit. Could be one of the lovely ladies inside." Benton held still. He couldn't risk their lives. The man at the helm chuckled, leading their way directly toward the canyons. 

7  
Arriving at the destination, the stagecoach came to a halt. Tied to the trees were a number of horses. Matt and Tyler climbed out, the women still at gunpoint. The woman, once seeing that they were well threatened, moved her gun on Fraser. "Step down," she demanded. Fraser moved slowly. The position was simply too precarious to try anything. He'd wait until he had the security of the ground to make any move. 

The man climbed down first, then she kept her gun on Fraser as he climbed down. He made a count. First of all, there were too many horses for the group. Second, the two men with guns were occupied with the women. The man who had driven the stage had no weapon. The woman on the coach lowered her weapon when Benton's feet touched the ground. The only way she would feel safe that he wouldn't try anything would be if... He turned and looked into the trees. It was then that several men came out and pointed guns at Fraser. He was surrounded. He turned again and made his sharp observations of each person, their positions, their weapons. 

Ordered onto a horse, Benton agreed for the safety of the women who were kept with their respective captors on their mounts. The group was taken up the mountainside and to the mouth of a mine. There they dismounted and Fraser was ordered down from his horse. He was then tied and led down the way, Ellen and Seana close behind. Fraser methodically thought out a plan. The place seemed shaky, rocks and pebbles dropping at each large sound. They obviously planned to let the place cave in. Fraser knew that to carry out the plans, they would have to leave him alone with the two women. 

Far into the manmade cave, they tied the three together to a post held tight by rock. Setting a lantern on the ground, they used it to help them see. Once they felt the three could not get loose, the men left them alone together. 

As the men came out from the cave, they began to prepare. It wasn't long before Tim and Jim arrived on horseback. Tim dismounted. "You got them in there?" Matt nodded. Tim dropped a bullet into his gun, aimed, and fired into the cave. 

Fraser heard the sounds of the rock crumbling, closing the entrance to the cave. He listened and counted. A wall of small to medium boulders had blocked the entrance, but only about six feet thick. Stan and Ray would be along. They could handle that. It was the second wall near the bend that concerned him. It had also closed off, but it was at least another fifteen feet. No one would hear them if they called for help and they would never hear if help had arrived. Digging their way through fifteen feet of rocks would be quite a challenge, but Benton saw that he had two healthy pairs of hands to help. 

Just as they began to relax, Benton heard a creaking. Near them, a side of the wall began to crumble. After a moment, water began to slowly drip into the cavern. Benton frowned, then tugged at the post. It wouldn't budge. Using his fingers, he began to work on the ropes. To say their time was limited was an understatement. 

8  
Stan and Ray moved northwest, following the way the apparently stolen stagecoach had gone. They found the trail, but when they reached the canyons west of town, they were lost. Ruts from the stage had stopped, but the stage was no where to be found. There were vast amounts of horse prints, but they went in every direction. They took a couple routes, but darkness was closing and a productive search was out of the question. 

The pair rode back into town and were immediately disturbed by the scene. They had to guide their horses around two dead bodies, shot in the chest. It was the two farmers whom the boys had left in charge. Nearing the saloon, they heard loud noises and whoops from the women in front of the doors. Stan gave Ray a glance and Ray nodded. The two dismounted and entered the saloon to a sight of gambling and loose women. Ray and Stan both felt intense frustration. 

Tim sat in a chair near the door. When he looked up and saw his adversaries, he poked Meg in the side. She looked down at him and smiled sweetly. "I have some business," he explained, pushing her from his lap. Tim then nodded at Jim across the table who pushed a girl off his lap before standing. 

Tim stepped up to Ray and Stan running his fingers through his hair. "We got a job for you two," Tim said as Jim joined him. 

Stan grabbed Tim, but Ray pulled him off. "Where is he?" Ray inquired. 

Jim shook his head. "Rumor is, that new sheriff of yours has sent for Judge Welsh. You two are going to go convince the judge not to come." 

Now even angrier, Stan jumped Jim and knocked him to the ground. Tim remained calm, speaking to Ray as Jim landed a punch on Stan. "You might not want to piss us off. We're not telling you where we put the sheriff until you've cooperated." 

"Stan, get off," Ray said. When Stan went to hit Jim again, Ray yelled firmly. "Stan! Get off!" 

Stan reluctantly agreed and Tim helped his partner to his feet. Tim smiled with a grin that made Ray's stomach churn. "Now," Tim said gently. "You want to free that man and those two ladies or shall we just let them die?" 

Stan growled. Ray remained calm, not letting his anger show. "You think this can last? You think it makes a difference if you got things back in your control for one night? We leave this town and maybe we go for backup. Maybe we come back, do what you want, and when we've got Sheriff Fraser back, we come after you again. How about that?" 

Tim chuckled defiantly and Jim stood straight. "Yeah, how about that? Maybe we start shooting down the ladies and farmers one by one. Maybe we start by killing you. What you two deputies don't seem to get is that we're not giving up on this one. You caught Jerrard drunk, that wasn't hard to do. You caught us lapsing on our duties, okay, but we'll do everything necessary to get our town back and you can be sure we won't let our guard down again. Why don't you think about that and get back to us when you're ready to save a few lives." 

Stan responded by spitting on Tim's boots. Tim didn't flinch. He touched his hat and nodded his head, then passed the pair and went into the street, Jim close behind. Once outside, Tim waited until Jim walked beside him. "Well? What d'you think?" 

Jim smiled. "We got 'em exactly where we want 'em." 

Tim agreed and the two mounted their horses before riding out to the edge of town. There they found household they sought. Tim took position beside the door, his gun cocked and pointed at the stars. Jim readied his gun, knocked, and moved to the other side of the door. The two waited, watching as the sole occupant moved aside the lace curtain and looked out. Seeing nothing, she opened the door and stepped out, only to be immediately taken into the custody of the two men. 

Francesca got out half a scream before she was gagged. Though struggling, her two assailants were able to bind her. Jim took Francesca on his horse and the two mounts with riders rode into the dust, heading east. 

9  
Fraser worked at the knots, feeling the two girls shivering. Both remained strong, however, not squealing or even speaking. Finally freeing the ropes, he unwrapped the two women and helped them to their feet. Taking a moment to lower the light in the lantern to save valuable oxygen, Benton wished he'd worn some sort of jacket or coat to offer the women. "Are you all right?" 

Both nodded solemnly, then Seana spoke. "Are we going to die?" 

Fraser looked into her eyes a moment. He couldn't share with her the very real possibility, but he couldn't lie. Instead he walked over to where the water dripped into the cavern. "It seems to be fresh water. We might need it to keep from dehydrating." Motioning them to follow, he made his way along the cavern and around the corner. 

Ellen gasped when she saw the wall of rock. "We'll never get out," she murmured. 

Taking a moment to reassure her, Benton stopped beside the wall and began looking at the configuration. "It will be unsteady, but we can do it." 

Seana and Ellen looked skeptical. "You mean move all those rocks, one by one?" 

Benton nodded. "It won't be as big a chore as it appears. If we just use teamwork, I believe we can manage." He paused, watching them wrap their arms around themselves, trying to warm up. "In addition, moving around will help us keep warm. We'll work up some warmth in the cave to aid us as well." 

The women nodded, indicating they would do their best to help. Benton began moving the smaller rocks near the top of the mine, tossing them away. The ladies took what they could in their aprons and moved them to the far side. When Benton needed help with larger rocks, they would work together. The rest of the time, the women moved the rocks out of the way. 

Having dug through several feet, Seana began to seem nervous. "How much more? Will we run out of air?" 

Benton tugged at his ear. "The cavern is large and there is quite a bit of space." He paused. "We have to keep working." He looked at the exhausted women. They wanted out and to help, but both could barely keep moving. Benton let out a long breath. They wouldn't make it if they didn't keep working. 

"They're exhausted, though, Son. They're no good to you at this rate." 

Benton spun from the wall of rock and turned to see his father. The man had died at the hand of a vigilante years ago, but he was certain he saw the man. Benton made a quick mental check, making sure he was not overly exhausted. He looked confused at the image of his father he saw. 

"It's me, son. Don't you recognize your father?" 

Benton ran his thumbnail along his brow. "Perhaps you ladies should go back in the corner and get some rest. I can handle this for a while. If you lay beside each other, it will help you keep warm." He smiled gently and, once they were out of view, he began to whisper. "I recognize you, Dad, but you shouldn't be here." 

"Not with my son?! What kind of greeting is that?" 

"Greeting, Dad? You're dead." 

"I know that, son. I thought I taught you not to waste time pointing out the obvious." 

Benton cleared his throat. He finally decided his mind was playing tricks and ignored the rambling older man. "You could go help keep them warm, you know. That Ellen is a widow. She's certainly young enough to give me grandchildren." 

'Oh good God,' Benton thought to himself in a tone he would never dream of using out loud. 'Even in death the man's insisting on grandchildren.' "It isn't as though I have anything against children," Benton explained finally. 

"Is it a wife you have a problem with? You know, son, they take good care of you and..." 

Benton cleared his throat again. "I really have a lot to do. If you aren't going to help me move rock, perhaps you should leave." 

"Is that any way to treat your father?" 

"Is that any way to treat your son?" 

"Fair enough." 

Benton went back to moving rock until he felt exhausted. He looked down at the ground and noticed it had become slightly slippery and wet. Concerned, he walked around to where the water fell. A large puddle was on the ground, but the area where the women had gone to lay down was elevated and they remained dry. Benton stayed near the wall and walked over to them. 

Realizing that the best way for them to conserve their body heat was to stay near, he closed his eyes and moved close to them. As he placed his arms around them, he tried not to think about the inappropriateness and concentrate on survival. 

10  
Ray stepped into the house, Stan close behind. They'd decided to discuss their options there so that Stan could see his fiance and Ray could relax in his own home. 

Ray hung his gun belt near the door, then looked into the parlor. A candle flickered lightly and the wax dripped from the platter onto the table. Furrowing his brow, he glanced at Stan, then looked around for other light in the house. There was no sign of any. "Did Francesca mention anything to you about going out tonight?" 

Stan shook his head, moved across the room to pick up the candle, then used the flame to light another candle which he handed to Ray. The two separated. Ray went upstairs and Stan covered the main floor. The two met again at the back door. It was obvious from just the look on their faces that neither had found her. 

"It's a bit chilly out there, but her wrap is still on her bed." 

"What about the shawl I gave her last month?" Stan asked. 

Ray pointed and Stan held up the light to see it hung on a hook by the door into the kitchen. He swallowed. Stan let out nervous air, breathing the words "Oh god." 

Ray stood a moment. His sister was missing. She was the only family he had left after the cholera outbreak last year. Now she was missing. The disappearance stank of Tim and Jim. Grabbing his gun belt and a coat, Ray went back outside. Stan blew out the candles and followed him. 

"The cowboys," Stan said offhand. 

Ray stopped and looked angry. "What!?" The man rambled about cowboys when only God knew what was happening to his sister, not to mention his boss and two innocent women. 

"The cowboys. I think we should get those cowhands to help us out. They've been staying out of trouble and they haven't picked sides. If we can get them on our side without letting on to anyone, we'll have an ace in the hole." 

Ray grunted. It seemed a good suggestion. A little undercover work was just what they needed and there were few other options. He let out a long breath. "Yeah. Let's do that. Let's just hope we can trust them. They gone back to the bunkhouse tonight?" 

Stan nodded and the two changed course, heading back to the bunkhouse which sat on the east side of town near the blacksmith. 

Two hours later, the men exited the bunkhouse, their heads bowed. 

11  
Fraser woke slightly groggy with no clue as to time. Normally a glance at the sunlight would orient him, but there was nothing to use for judgment here. Shifting slowly, he noticed the two women were not beside him anymore. He listened, hearing their movement around the corner. Standing, he had to walk through the muddy, slippery puddle to get to them. When he saw the two women moving skirts full of rock to the other end, he found himself surprised. 

Their petticoats showed, as did the stress on their faces, but he tried not to notice the heeled boots, dainty ankles. He stopped himself quickly as he imagined legs. It was too much for him when he wasn't used to seeing such things. He was more than a bit taken aback at how they'd taken charge, letting him sleep. These women were stronger than he normally expected, but he quickly assumed that the strength was due to the situation. 

Stepping up behind them, he noticed the mud caked to their boots and the reddened hands. Their fingers grasped rock slowly, both cold and sore from the work. Still they persisted. They'd made noticeable progress in his absence. 

Benton didn't say a word, only began taking handfuls of rocks and passing them into Seana's dress. Before long he'd created a large crawlspace into which he climbed and began handing rocks back to the women. 

Occasionally, the dehydrated group would pause and take drinks from the dripping cavern. As the water finally reached ankle high, Benton had to help Ellen inside the crawlspace with him and begin a line. He'd pass the rocks to her, she'd pass them to Seana, Seana would move them out to the growing pile at the other end of the mine. 

The three were hungry, but to keep their minds off of things, the ladies learned about Benton's father; a marshal killed in the line of duty. They learned about his previous positions and the fact that he'd been sent to Gochick more as punishment than anything else. 

In turn, Benton learned about the widow Ellen's husband. Too young to be a widow, he noted, she'd lost her husband to the cholera outbreak last year. Ray had told him that was how he'd lost most of his family also. It saddened him to see so much family lost. 

Seana was married to a farmer just out of town, he learned, and the pair had only recently moved there. 

It wasn't what he learned that Benton enjoyed, however. It was more about getting to know these people. He'd turned the town from something fearful to something safe in a matter of a couple of days. He knew now why he had done it. It wasn't just about his own desires to see people receive consequences. The good deserved to have good things, the bad deserved to lose privileges. More than all of that, these people needed someone to believe in; someone with the courage to help beyond all obstacles. This was an obstacle. They would get out, they would carry on. 

Benton listened carefully to the women and the sounds in the cavern. It seemed all at once that he heard an echo. Something had shifted on the other side of their rock barrier and he could hear that they were easily 5 feet from being through. One other wall at the entrance and they'd be free. In his excitement, he didn't notice how exhausted the women had become again. 

12  
The dark skinned cowboy took a swig from a bottle of whisky and handed it to a redheaded cowboy. The third, a white man with dark hair turned to the other man at the table and placed two cards in the deadwood at the center of the table. 

The dealer passed two cards to him and then dealt his own. 

"You know, Huey," the redhead began. "I heard the town was cleaned up while we were on that last haul." 

The black man nodded. "Yup. I heard the same thing." He turned to the dark haired one. "Sure don't look that way now, though, does it, Dewey?" 

Dewey shook his head. "Would have been a real shame if this place'd become respectable. What'd we do to relax if there was nothing to do?" 

The redhead placed his bet and began to whistle. He watched the others place bets, raise, and finally Dewey folded. The redhead stopped whistling and shook his head. "You know, I'd sure like to know who got this place back to normal. Thank the man and buy him a bottle." 

"Yeah, Louie. I'd sure like to buy him one too." 

The dealer smiled. "I'd sure appreciate that," he said. "Seein' as how me and Tim got rid of them do-gooders." 

"What about everyone else? I hear some of them's in jail and I sure ain't seen any of my favourite gals around here." Louie asked. 

"Same here," Dewey agreed. "Kim, Rebecca. They're no where to be found. Saw Meg and Icecat earlier, though." 

"Only picked up the ones he actually saw breakin' the law," the dealer explained. "Picked up quite a few girls that way. Actually, you should be seein' all the girls soon enough. Broke everyone out earlier today." He chuckled and held out a hand. "I saw you boys in town from time to time, but we've never met. I'm Jim." 

Huey shook Jim's hand. "I'm Huey. Those two are Dewey and Louie." He pointed to the other men respectively. "We'll buy you that bottle now." Raising his hand he flagged down a waitress. Jim had never noticed her before, but assumed she was a new one. She was lovely, he decided, and considered asking her to join him later. 

"Hey, boys. My name's Lys," she introduced herself. 

"Hey, Lys," Huey said, smiling. 

Lys smiled in return. "What can I do for you boys?" she asked sweetly, behaving as though she were working for a big tip. 

"We'll take another bottle of whisky for this gentleman." Louie jumped in. 

Lys nodded. "Sure." 

Dewey looked up at her, winked and touched his nose. Lys winked back and discreetly touched the side of her nose with her finger before setting a beer bottle on her tray and leaving. 

13  
Jim looked at his cards a moment, then took a drink from the bottle the cowboys had bought just for him. It was half gone now and he was beginning to feel lightheaded, but continued. He knew he could handle his booze. They'd been playing poker for hours now and he was beginning to desire lunch. The boys generously offered him the food, ordered from Lys. After eating, his head began to fuzz. 

"So," Huey began. "What about all them's that are in jail?" 

"We've got a plan to handle that," Jim offered loosely. 

"Oh?" 

"Sure," he replied. "We tried breakin' in, but it don't seem possible. Dynamite'd kill someone and those boys took the keys with 'em. Stone walls all 'round the cells. That place is a fortress." 

"So what're you gonna do?" 

Jim opened his mouth, then closed it. He realized he'd been sharing far too much information so he concentrated intently on his cards. "We just have a plan, that's all." 

Dewey and Louie glanced at each other. They took another drink from their beers, having already had their bottle of whisky. Huey placed his cards in the pile. "I fold. Gonna go stretch my legs." 

The others nodded and continued their game as Huey left the saloon. 

"So," Dewey pressed. "Don't suppose we could get in on the action." 

"What d'ya mean?" Jim asked. 

"Well, I was just thinkin' that if we could get in on the action, the breakout maybe, well, we'd be heroes just like you an' Tim." 

Jim shook his head. "We got all the men we need." 

Louie frowned. "Sure, but everybody knows who your men are, right? I mean, don't you think them deputies'll be keeping an eye on your boys?" 

Jim shrugged. 

Dewey set his cards on the table. "I think what he's sayin' is that we could go under cover. We could pretend to be on their side and find out their plans so you can stay a step ahead." 

Jim considered it a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, yeah. We could do that." 

"Only thing is," Louie added, "we gotta know what your plans are so we'll know when they're on to you and we can lead them the opposite direction." 

Jim paused. Huey hadn't returned and a nervous Jim turned to Louie. "Where'd your friend go?" 

Louie shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe I should go find him." 

Jim shook his head. "No need." 

Dewey shrugged. "I dunno. Not like him. Maybe you'd better. With all that's going on around here, we'd better be on the safe side." 

"Yeah," Louie agreed and stood. "You know, maybe now'd be a good time to get on board with you, ya know? I could go out there and find Huey and maybe find out where Ray and Stan are right now. What d'you think?" 

Dewey nodded. "Good idea. So let's get the plans first." 

Jim took a deep breath. "What about that dark skinned fella. Can we trust him to be on our side?" 

"Of course," Louie replied. "He's more upset about them cleanin' up this town than the rest of us. He came here just so he wouldn't have people lookin' over his shoulder all the time." 

Dewey agreed and leaned closer to Jim. Louie leaned in as well. "We won't tell a soul." 

Jim nodded and began to speak. 

14  
Fraser finally broke through into the outer cavern. Releasing a sigh of relief, the women, both now inside the crawlspace, turned to him. They saw the opening and smiled. "We're almost free!" Ellen exclaimed. 

Benton nodded. "The rocks blocking the entrance are not nearly so thick. We should get through there with no problems." He looked back at the previous cavern. "I think we should go back and get drinks before we move on, though." 

The women agreed. Stepping into the water, they sloshed to where the cavern leaked the fresher water, filled their mouths, and spat. This moistened them without allowing them to get water logged. Too much water would make them sick and, therefore, useless. Benton helped the women back into the crawlspace, then followed them through. 

The part he avoided mentioning now that escape seemed a reality was that it would be a long hike back down the mountainside and several miles into town. They were hardly safe yet. 

* * *

"They took Francesca someplace 'safe'," Huey said quietly to Ray. "Apparently they're planning to keep her until you go stop the judge from coming. Meanwhile, they've got Benton and those women trapped in the Shakiba mine. They'll die of starvation before you can get back so they'll have their way in the end. He'll still be dead and the judge'll still not come."

Shakiba, one of the first mines, had been started by a man named Jameson who was completely devoted to his wife. In honour of her, he had named the mine after her. 

"Why are they so intent on stopping Judge Welsh from coming here? When the judge sees this place, he'll hightail it back like he always has. Besides, that's only if he shows up. Just because our new sheriff dropped him a line doesn't mean he'll bite. Judge Welsh would be happy if everyone here just killed each other and be done with it." 

Huey shrugged. "Jerrard heard that there's a complication." 

Ray furrowed his brow. "Meaning?" 

"Welsh's niece, Marilea, has a heavy thing for Mr. Fraser. She's living with the judge now so, if she hears wind he's asking for a judge, she'll talk him into coming. Welsh'll do anything for her since she moved in with him. He spoils her rotten." 

Ray nodded. "So where are they keeping Francesca?" 

Huey shrugged. "I don't know. Louie and Dewey've gone back to work on him, try to find out. All they got out of him is that they were heading toward the blacksmith - east out of town." 

Ray nodded. "All right. Sounds like we're best off to wait a bit longer, then tell them we'll go stop the judge. You three try to get in and keep an eye on Francesca and we'll come pick her up. Just so they believe you're on their side, explain to them that we're going to talk to the judge and we're comin' by in a couple hours to tell them that and that they should make you scarce so we don't know you're working with them; that's why they should let you watch Frannie. Got it?" 

"Well, there's more." Huey added. "They haven't been able to break into the jail yet, but while you're gone to talk to the judge, they're figurin' they'll have plenty of time to break in and let everyone out." 

Ray shook his head. "Damn." He looked deep in thought. "Nothin' we can do about that. More important I get my sister back and go help the sheriff. Let's just stick to the plan, ok? You meet us by Lucy by dusk, got it?" 

Huey nodded. Lucy was a good place to meet - an ancient tree outside of town. A recognizable landmark, it stood amongst the privacy of trees. 

Ray met up with Stan and filled him in on the plans. The pair went back to the jail to check on everything, taking snipes from Jen and a few other girls before being satisfied. They took rifles and ammunition, strapped them to their horses, then went to the bar. 

"All right, Jim," Ray said to the half drunk man. "We'll do it. We're riding out now to go stop the judge. If we do this, you'll free my sister and the sheriff, right?" 

Jim stood. "On my honour." 

Stan cringed. They already knew at least half of that was a lie, but played into the hand. As soon as they were out of sight, Jim wandered up the stairs. 

Approaching one door, he heard the sounds of pleasure. He considered waiting, but knew there wasn't time to fool around. He knocked. 

"Go away," came the male voice on the other side, then a giggle from the female. 

"It's Jim and it's important," Jim insisted. 

"Damn!" Jim heard, then several moments of rustling before the door swung open. Wrapped in a blanket on the bed sat Meg and before him, with a growl, Tim was buttoning his denims. 

Jim cleared his throat. "Ray and Stan just left to go talk to the judge and I got a couple men headed out to watch the Vecchio woman and relieve the others." 

"Couple men? Who'd ya send?" 

"Them cattle rustlers volunteered to help us out." 

"They loyal?" 

"They're sure upset this place was about to go clean. I played cards with them all afternoon and I trust 'em." 

Tim nodded. "All right. That frees up a couple men to help over at the jail. Let's get to work." 

Jim agreed and made his way back down the stairs. Tim grabbed his shirt and guns from the corner of the bed before following. 

15  
As the boys came upon Old Lucy, they noticed the grass moving. Dismounting at a safe distance, they drew their weapons and separated, converging on the source of the noise. The giggling which arose from the long grasses surprised Stan who froze. Ray crept slightly closer and pointed his gun at the young couple laying in the grass. Seeing that it was a harmless pair, he dropped the weapon. 

"Samuel?" Stan said when he saw the man stand up. He watched a blushing Samuel reach out his hand and immediately recognized the woman. "Janice? What are you two doing out here?" 

Janice shifted looked sheepishly, avoiding eye contact as she answered. "I really don't think you want me to answer that." 

Stan nodded and put his gun back into its holster. "You're right. You two get back to town and don't tell anyone you saw us out here, all right?" 

Janice frowned. "Why not?" 

"Just don't," Ray added. "It's too complicated to explain and could put you both in danger." 

With a smile, Janice glanced at Samuel then back at Ray. "Danger? You two are going to save the sheriff and take care of Jerrard and his allies, right?" 

Ray looked at Stan. Stan thought a moment, then replied. "Don't worry, we've got it under control." 

Samuel took Janice by the arm. "What can we do to help?" he asked. 

Stan scratched his neck. "Go back to town and pretend you didn't see us." 

"Oh, get off it," Janice jumped in. "They've got more men than you. Hell, even if the two of you go one on one with Jerrard, Tim, and Jim you are still outnumbered." 

Stan couldn't argue. He couldn't tell them that they had cowboys on their side, but it was true that they would be outnumbered if Tim and Jim had backup. Still, it was dangerous to have people showing up in town with weaponry. Pretty soon, the bad faction would get nervous and too many people would be hurt. 

All at once, however, a plan formulated in his mind. "You know, you can be of some help. If Samuel can get a few men together, that would help, but if they all show up brandishing weapons, it'll look suspicious." 

"So what do we do?" Samuel asked as Ray looked at Stan, wondering what was in the fool man's mind. 

"Janice, you'll get together a few women and they'll carry the weapons. They won't expect a bunch of ladies to have anything more than tiny handguns. Can you do that?" 

Janice nodded. "I know a couple women who'll be dying to help out. We'll wait for you in town." 

"We should be back by morning, but don't tell anyone that. Be there shortly after dawn and try to keep a low profile. From there you'll just serve as backup," Stan explained. 

Ray nodded his agreement as Janice and Samuel nodded their understanding. The two went arm in arm back toward town. 

Ray and Stan moved beside the tree where they were to meet their contacts. They had to wait another hour before the cowboys finally rode up. Louie immediately dismounted and approached Stan. "Ok, we're supposed to relieve a couple of Tim's men. They've got a hideout out there on the Circle J Ranch. They place it on the south side. We'll go relieve them and wait for you there." 

Stan nodded. Ray adjusted his gun belt. "Good, good. You and Huey will stay there and say that Dewey's taken Frannie for a walk, just in case anyone shows, all right?" 

Louie nodded. 

"From there we'll bypass town up on the north ridge and head to the mines while Dewey rides to Glass Rock and gets Judge Welsh to come out this way and bring some assistance to help us keep things in line," Stan pointed out. 

"Yeah, we'll need all the help we can get," Ray stated, then continued before Louie could ask any more questions. He felt it best the cowboys didn't worry about the details at this point. "Meanwhile we'll get the sheriff, Ellen, and Seana freed, we hope, and head back to town. You'll have to ride hard and get back immediately. We'll have to handle things at dawn, but if you push yourself, you can have the judge back by tomorrow night." 

Louie nodded, mounted, and rode away with his boys. Ray and Stan moved toward the pond less than a mile from the tree. They refreshed themselves and checked their weapons once more before following the way of the cowboys. 

16  
Benton was beginning to see very dim light through the cracks between rocks. He passed a few to Ellen. Ellen passed them to Seana. When they saw the light coming through, they felt relaxed and relieved, but they were still exhausted. They'd been at the tedious work for hours. 

Working until there was just enough room to slip through, Benton handed Ellen the last of the rocks. He jumped through into the fresh air and breathed deeply before turning and helping Ellen, then Seana, from the crawlspace created at the entrance to the mine. 

Both women breathed deeply also. Fresh air never smelled so good to either of them, but they were still starving and thirsty. Fraser heard a murmuring and perked his ears. The first order of business was to follow his ears to the spring he heard dribbling into a creek. The water would be fresher than anything they'd had in days, fresher than well water, even. While he walked, the women following, he wondered how he would manage to find food for the three. 

They came upon the water and cleaned their hands and faces as they drank. The women sat weakened against nearby boulders. Fraser had to admit to being weak also. He ached with hunger. He looked at the women for a long time before realizing something. It would be dangerous for a woman to go into town by herself unprepared. He'd never seen them disarmed. Taking a breath, he looked back and forth between them. 

"Do either of you have some sort of protection? A small gun perhaps?" 

Seana shook her head, but Ellen glanced at Seana, then reached in her boot. She pulled out a very small knife and handed it to Fraser. "I'm not sure it could do any good." 

Fraser looked at it a moment. He wasn't sure either, but at least it was something. "You two wait here." 

Nearly an hour passed and the sky was very dark before Benton returned. The women used the small knife to remove the fur coats from the two squirrels Benton had caught as if removing jackets from tiny babies. Meanwhile, Benton was forced to use rocks and tinder to build a fire. A spark finally caught and he gently blew on it until they had something to use for warmth and cooking. 

After the three had devoured the squirrels, Benton found a clearing with high grasses where they could rest. He only let them rest an hour, however, explaining that it was better to travel by night than get burned in the daytime sun. Soon they were one their way. 

17  
"Jim sent us to keep an eye on the girl," Dewey said firmly. 

"You're Jim's men?" the man at the door asked. 

Huey nodded. "Got the three of us to relieve you so you can get back into town and help them out, I guess. We're going to be here all night." 

The man nodded. "All right. I'm glad they sent someone. I was getting' pretty tired and Edgy in there can't wait to get back. They sent us out with some extra horses just in case. If you need them, you'll find them out back. We'll see you boys 'round town." 

"Yup," Louie agreed, taking a seat at the door as Huey and Dewey went inside. Louie watched the men leave and, once out of sight, he joined the others inside. There he saw Francesca Vecchio laying curled into a ball on some hay in the corner. She slept, though restlessly, and the boys let her sleep. 

It wasn't too long before they heard a soft knock at the door. Ray stepped inside first, then Stan rushed past and knelt beside Francesca. He pushed the hair from her face and she woke slowly. Seeing him, she smiled and sat up quickly. 

"Are you ok?" Stan asked immediately. Frannie nodded. "Where's the sheriff?" 

"They got him too," Ray said, helping his sister to her feet. "We have to get going so we can get him out before they figure out you're gone." Ray turned to Huey. "We'll take your mounts with us." 

"They left a couple extra horses out back in case we needed to take her anywhere or someone came upon us and stole our horses. Why don't you take those instead?" 

Stan nodded. "Francesca, you'll ride with me so we can keep the spare horses fresh. They'll be carrying three more people between two horses when we find them so they'll need their strength." 

Francesca nodded her understanding as they quickly explained their plans to her. Stan put her on his horse, then jumped behind her, half seated on the cantle. Ray waved Dewey to his destination before leading the way north of town. 

Riding over the ridge was rough on the horses, especially with the extra load on Stan's horse. 

"Stanley," Francesca said as they approached a sandy area where the horse hooves tread quietly. 

"Yes, dear?" 

"Never mind." 

Stan was quiet a moment, contemplating what she may have wanted to say. "If you lean back against me, you could take a little nap," he said finally. 

Francesca shook her head. 

"Is something bothering you?" 

Francesca nodded. He watched her soft hair bounce gently and took a deep breath of her. 

"You know, maybe I can help." 

Francesca didn't move for a moment. When she finally spoke, Stan's heart sank into his boots. "I don't think I want to get married." 

Stan couldn't speak. Finally the silence worried Francesca and she spoke again. "I mean, I don't think I'm ready yet. Perhaps later." 

"Perhaps later you'll want to marry me or perhaps later you'll want to get married?" 

Francesca turned her head, then faced forward again, bowing her chin into her neck. "I don't know." 

Stan took a breath. "Why don't we start with what made you decide you don't want to get married." 

"I didn't decide. I just said I didn't think I wanted to. I haven't made any decisions," she paused before quietly adding, "yet." 

Stan looked ahead at Ray. He continued on his way, not looking back at them. Stan leaned closer to Francesca's ear. "Something must have made you think about changing your mind." 

Francesca let out a long breath. "I just haven't done enough living," she said. 

"Living? I don't know what you mean." 

"I mean, it was sort of expected of me to marry you. No one really asked me what I wanted. Ray certainly didn't give me much choice. He may get frustrated by you, but he thinks you'd be good to me. Besides, he doesn't trust too many men in town to be with me. He only trusted you until......" She stopped herself. 

"Until?" he asked, then realized what she meant and finished her thought. "Until Sheriff Benton Fraser, eternal good guy and stealer of hearts walked into town." 

"I didn't say that," she said quietly. 

"No, but you meant it." Stan felt a little upset, but he couldn't be. If she wasn't certain she wanted to marry him, he didn't want her to. The last thing he wanted for Francesca was to make her unhappy. 

"Please don't be upset," she said. "It's not so much about the sheriff as the fact that I realized I was about to go from taking care of my brother to taking care of a husband. I need to figure out who I am first." 

Stan couldn't blame her. It was the world in which they lived. Women hardly got a chance to think about what they wanted before they were handed off to husbands. Most women who dared venture from that cycle ended up whores at the saloon. Not many made it into other occupations and the opportunities were limited. He knew that consciously, but it didn't change his mind about women. Getting married and raising families had been good enough for generations of his family. Who was he, or Francesca for that matter, to question it. 

"So, what are you going to do?" he asked after letting the silence build through his thoughts. 

"I'm not sure. It's not really important. Only important thing is that I explore everything until I find what I like." 

Stan nodded, then gently kissed her ear. "You just be careful out there," he added. "It's a scary world." 

Francesca nodded again and Stan watched her hair bounce. He realized it was likely his last chance to partake of her sight, smells, and details which he'd fallen in love with. Letting out a long breath, he watched the rocks on the hills, trying not to think about the loss he would surely feel in the morning after this was all over. 

18  
The blacksmith looked into the pouch of gold coins and smiled. "Yeah, I think it's possible. I've got a spike and it may take some time to break through the locks, but it can be done." 

Tim nodded. "Well, then, we'll see you over at the jail in ten minutes." 

The blacksmith closed the door behind Tim, then hurried down the stairs through the back entrance into his shop. He gathered his paraphernalia and went to the front door. He rushed out into the night air and to the sheriff's office. Setting the spike in place, he began to pound with a large metal hammer. The lock was stubborn. He had to shift the spike and hammer several times before he could even see the progress. The locks began to bend out of shape. 

Jim leaned against the bars of the cell. "So, Kim." He paused, thinking. "Bet you can't wait to get out of here." 

Kim smiled. "I can't. Trapped with a bunch of women for 2 days? I'm ready for some male companionship." 

Jim cleared his throat. "Too bad we've got work to do after we let you all out." 

Kim reached through the bars and ran her finger along his shirt pocket. "Too bad." 

Jim straightened. "Well, I know at least one cowboy who's been missing you... and Rebecca." 

Rebecca, her ears perking at her name, stepped up behind Kim. "Oh really?" 

"Sure, Dewey made mention earlier today about the two of you, in fact." 

"Dewey?" Rebecca said, looking surprised. 

Jim shifted. "Yeah. That's news to you, I take it." 

As Rebecca moved beside Kim, she placed her hands on the bars. "Well, he orders drinks from me periodically, but he never... partakes of the valuables," she said, adding a wink at the end. 

Jim furrowed his brow. "Then why'd he say you're a favourite? You and Kim?" he asked. 

Kim shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, Jim. He's the straightest cowboy, which is saying a lot because those other two are pretty clean too." 

Jim rested a hand on the bars and glanced at Tim. Tim was impatiently watching the blacksmith work the lock. Jim turned back to Kim. "When you say clean, what exactly do you mean?" 

Rebecca frowned. "Well, they just don't do anything out of line, ya know. Come in for food and drinks and to watch us serving the food and drinks and they watch the dancing, but that's about it." 

Jim ran his fingers through his hair. "You mean they don't gamble either, don't you?" 

Rebecca nodded. 

"How could I have been so stupid? I played cards with them all afternoon and assumed I knew them. Damn fool thing to do," he said, then stepped over to Tim, speaking softly into his ear. "Tim, we have a problem." 

19  
Fraser jumped down from a boulder and turned, giving the women a hand for support as they hopped down. The bright pearl-like moon lit the ground and he surveyed their next steps. Listening to the creek running nearby, he heard that it rounded a corner. 

Knowing that the creek ran just a mile from town, he decided to follow its route, keeping them also near refreshment. He moved with caution, listening quietly for danger. One step and he heard a disturbing sound break through the silence. The ladies froze in their steps and looked to Fraser. The rattling they heard could only be one thing. 

"Don't move," Fraser whispered, then reached slowly into his pocket for the small knife he had kept for future hunting. Not moving his feet, Fraser looked slowly into the shadow. The light flashed quickly off the rattle and Benton had to use it to estimate where the rest of the snake lay in its coil. The light flashed off its head as it moved very slowly so he could see where it was. 

Just as he firmed his grip on the knife, preparing to throw it, he heard a rustle behind the snake. If another snake sat behind this one, he'd get a venomous bite from the hidden one in anger. He took a moments pause to calculate a solution, but just then, something jumped from the bush and bit into the snake. 

Watching the silhouette of the lupine, the women took a step back. They feared the wolf would come for them next. Instead, it placed a paw on the body, deftly sank it's teeth just behind the jaw of the serpent, and yanked it's head away. As soon as it had finished it's work, the head dropping to the ground, then the animal stepped close to them and leaned his head against the male human. Benton squatted. "Thank you," he said to the animal, then rolled his eyes at the fact he'd spoken to it. 

"Wroof," it replied, then added a tiny whine. 

The women relaxed. "Is it safe?" Ellen asked. 

"Appears so," their trusty sheriff replied. "He seems unusually tame." 

"Certainly unusual," Seana replied. "Just a couple of weeks ago a cougar attacked my husband." 

"He appears to be a wolf, but with much more tame characteristics," Benton added casually. He patted the animal atop its head, then reached out and picked up the snake's body. 

Ellen looked disgusted, but Fraser saw another meal. He held it as they moved nearer the creek, then crouched to build a fire before peeling the skin from the snake to prepare it for eating. Seana watched the animal and tossed a few small pieces to the ravenous animal which had saved them. Ellen soon followed with some of hers and Benton held out a piece on his fingers. The lupine looked for a moment, then took it in his mouth as though trained and waited for a rewarding rub. Fraser obliged. 

After the meal, they took a short rest. The moon had disappeared beneath the horizon and the sun had not made any appearance yet. The sky was too dark now to travel so they waited for the morning. 

Eventually the sun encroached on their rest. Benton sat up and found the wolf sprawled along Seana's body, his backbone tracing her side. The animal opened his eyes, looking at him and Benton could swear for a split second that he saw a smile cross that lupine's face. Getting up, the wolf jumped to stand beside Fraser. Squatting again, the sheriff looked into his new companion's eyes. "You'll need a name if you're going to follow us. How about Dief?" The wolf whined and rested his chin on Benton's knee. "Dief it is," Benton said and the wolf jumped, adding a happy whimper. 

The rocky walls had made it slow going, but it appeared to Benton as though they were now over the worst parts. He was concerned about exposing them all to the sun, but he was also anxious to get back into town and straighten everything out he knew must have taken place after he'd left. 

20  
Stan searched his soul for something to say, but instead ended up riding in silence. They made excellent time, passing the town and heading toward the mines before the light of the moon escaped them. 

"The best route is up along the creek," Ray stated. "What do you think, Stan?" 

"Yeah," Stan said, then went back to his thoughts. 

Ray heard the melancholy in his partner's voice. He slowed his horse and fell beside Stan. "Something wrong?" 

Stan shook his head. Frannie turned a mournful eye on Ray. Raising his eyebrows, Ray kept beside them. "You sure?" 

"Yeah," Stan said quickly, cutting off Francesca. 

Francesca cleared her throat and stiffened her back. "We're not getting married," she stated rather simply. 

Ray looked at Francesca who looked sad, but satisfied. He turned his sights on Stan who looked frustrated, annoyed, and a little angry. "What'd you do to her?" Ray asked immediately. 

Stan pulled his reigns, bringing his horse and the one he led behind to a stop. "Pardon?!" he asked, astounded at the brash assumption. 

Ray stopped beside him. "I said, what'd you do?" 

"It wasn't him, it was me," Frannie offered. 

Ray jumped from his horse, Stan following the dismount. "What'd you do?!" Ray repeated, adding a shove. 

Francesca grabbed the pommel and glared at Ray. "Ray, you stop that!" 

Stan held his ground. "Hey, look, it's none of your business, ok? We're both adults and we both made the decision, got that?" Stan shoved Ray's shoulder and Ray responded with a punch that sent Stan to the ground. Stan flipped to his back and held his jaw. 

Ray hovered threateningly over Stan. "I warned you. I told you if you hurt her I'd kill you." 

Stan locked his legs around Ray and yanked his feet from under him. In a swift movement, he jumped on Ray and grabbed his shirt. Frannie jumped from the horse and snatched Stan's collar, pulling back. Stan almost choked and let out a grunt, but followed the shirt and got off Ray. 

Ray sat up, turning an angry gaze on Stan. "I'll kill you." 

Stan moved to his feet as Francesca moved in front of him. "Listen to me, you idiot!" she yelled. "I'm the one who doesn't want to get married, all right? I'm the one who broke it off. I hurt Stan, not the other way around." 

Ray finally let her voice sink in and moved slowly to his feet. Stan and Frannie both kept an eye on him until he was firm on his feet. "Why Francesca? Why would you do that? What'd he do to make you want..." 

"Nothing!" she snapped, then took in a breath to relax herself. "Stan didn't do anything. He's been great, but this isn't what I want. Can you try to understand that?" 

Ray shrugged his shoulders. "I don't, though. I thought marriage and kids was what you looked forward to." 

Frannie took Ray's arm and guided him a few feet away. Stan knew she wanted to be alone with her brother so he checked the horses, busying himself while they talked. 

"What made you think that, Ray? Just because that's what most women have doesn't mean it's what all women want." She saw the confusion in his eyes. "I'm not saying I don't ever want it, ok? I just need to figure that out. I need to see what else is out there for me. Can you support me? Can you let me do that?" 

Ray frowned, slowly nodding his head. "I have to. You're my sister and that means I have to give you what you want." 

Francesca smiled and kissed Ray lightly on the cheek. "Thank you, Ray," she said softly, then turned back to Stan, speaking loudly. "Well, we've got about half an hour before we reach the creek and I could use a drink. Should we press on?" 

Stan nodded and mounted his horse. Francesca put her hand in Ray's elbow. "Would it be all right if I rode with you now?" 

Ray understood her completely and nodded before helping her onto his horse. 

21  
Benton moved with caution along the cliff edge. Ahead he could see where the rock wall sloped down and they would be able to jump over the edge without injury. Seana slipped and Benton was quick to grab her. The unsteady rock led them away from the creek at a waterfall and the height at that point was too great for them to climb down. Fraser couldn't help wondering if there had been a better route, but found himself following the wolf. 

Dief had kept an eye on them throughout the morning. He'd warned Benton early of a nest of scorpions and had discouraged a very young bear cub from following them. 

The sun neared its highest point in the sky and Benton wondered about lunch. He led them along the ridge until they could climb over, then headed back toward the creek. A moment later, Dief broke into a run. His concerned followers watched, then Benton moved forward in the direction Dief had gone. Soon they came upon a bush full of berries. Benton examined them closely before picking one and tasting it. 

Satisfied that it was good, he told the women to eat a few. As they ate, Dief returned, bearing the gift of a rabbit. (Bunny, if you will. A rare breed known as "plot") Benton wasn't sure they needed something as heavy as meat, but he could see the animal had been injured and that, in all honesty, Dief had probably put the poor animal out of it's misery. 

Making a fire, the women watched it cook. They'd eaten several berries, but feared eating too many would make them feel ill. As the meat began to brown, Benton heard a noise and perked his ears. He stood slowly peering toward the source of the sound. Recognizing a face all at once, he let out a breath and smiled at the women. 

"What is it?" Seana asked, standing beside him. 

"I see Stan. I can only assume the other sound I hear is Ray with some horses." 

Ellen breathed a sigh of relief. Both women were terribly anxious to be back to the safety and security of their homes. Ellen stood, the food forgotten. She watched them approach and smiled herself when she saw her good friend Francesca riding with Ray. 

Before Francesca had a chance to get her bearings after dismounting, Ellen wrapped her arms around the woman. "What are you doing here?" 

"It's a very long story," Francesca replied, then glanced at the animal stretched on a stick over the fire. Ellen moved back beside it and turned the stick so that the other side could cook. 

As the women sat around the fire cooking, Ray looked down at them. "We'll be back in a few minutes. We need to fill in the sheriff here on what he's missed." 

Seana nodded and the men walked a few feet away. They didn't return until the food was cooked and divided into small portions between the large group. Francesca had filled the women in on her part while preparing the food, but when the men joined the women, all was quiet. No one spoke as an uncomfortable silence built. 

Finally, when Stan had heard enough silence, he put down the bone in his hand and looked to the women. "When we get back to town, we'd like you three to find Janice. She'll provide you with weapons. You'll hold them for the men until they need them. If there are more weapons than men, you'll have to help." 

"Stan," Fraser interrupted. "I'm not certain that starting a war of some kind will accomplish the goals we have set for ourselves." 

Stan let out a low growl. "Well, we had to make do after you took off on that stagecoach, now didn't we?" 

Fraser tugged his ear. "I couldn't very well let these women get captured." 

"You played right into their hands!" Stan argued. 

"Perhaps, but that doesn't change the fact that innocent lives were involved." 

Ray snorted. "There're plenty of innocent lives in town if you're looking for someone to save." 

Fraser took in a deep breath. "Let's concentrate on the matter at hand." 

"Yes, let's" Stan added, dripping sarcasm. "Before you get all uptight, Sheriff, why don't we just think of the armed people in town as back up, all right? We won't use them unless we have to." 

Fraser nodded a reluctant agreement and finished his meat before setting the bone on the ground. "Progress has been much slower than anticipated. We won't get back into town until evening." 

Ray nodded. "We hoped to be there by this morning, but that didn't happen. For the best, I guess. Dewey might be back with the judge and some assistance when we get there. Only one problem." 

"Yeah?" Ellen jumped in. 

"Huey and Louie. Someone'll be by to relieve them from watching Francesca today. They'll be on to us by the time we reach town." 

At that, they heard several clicking sounds and a voice. "We're on to you now," Tim said, pointing a gun at Stan's head. As the group looked around, they found guns pointing at all of them. 

22  
In a show of abject humiliation, Tim sat behind the sheriff's desk watching the blacksmith meld his newly repaired lock into place. Throwing his feet on the desk, he threw a wink to Francesca. "So, what do you say you dump that rubbish and come over to me?" he said, motioning at the men behind bars. 

Francesca glared. "I wouldn't come near you with an eleven foot pole." 

Tim chuckled. "Don't you mean ten foot?" 

Frannie looked annoyed. "Ten, eleven, ninety two. I still wouldn't touch you with it." 

"You'd rather marry one of them fools sittin' behind bars?" he asked, leaning back in the chair. 

"I'd rather marry a horse," she snapped. 

Tim threw his head back and laughed. "A horse wouldn't be very good company." 

"Better company than the scum you are." Francesca spit at his feet. 

In reaction, Tim jumped and grabbed her, wrapping an arm around her neck and putting a gun barrel into the lower back of her skull. Francesca swallowed, then found strength. "I'd also rather die." 

Stan gulped. "Come on, Tim. Let her go." 

Tim grabbed her jaw and spun her around, roughly turning her face into the light. "You aren't pretty enough for me anyway," he said and shoved her, causing her to fall. 

Stan growled and made a threatening gesture of pulling a mock trigger at Tim. Tim chuckled coldly. "From in there? Try it, big boy." 

"You leave her alone," Ray jumped in now. The sound of horses nearing rose from outside and Ray yelled to be heard. "You're a sick bastard!" 

Tim ignored the man and turned to the window. "Ah, look. The rest of your party has arrived." 

Benton, Stan, and Ray all looked immediately out the window. In a moment, the sight rode past their view. Four horses crossed the window, behind two of them trailed rope. In another instant they saw that, at the end of the rope, Huey and Louie were struggling to keep on their feet with clothes already shredded as they'd been dragged. Tim growled and walked outside, heading straight toward his men. 

Francesca gasped and Stan looked away. "I'm tired of these sick pranks. It's got to end." 

Benton turned to Stan and Ray, who was now looking at the floor. "I agree, but we must find the best way to go about it." 

"Kill the sick fuckers!" Stan said firmly. "Are you blind, Fraser? It's the only way." 

"It wouldn't be right to stoop to their level," Fraser pointed out. "It doesn't matter what they've done, they deserve justice, not a lynch mob." 

Stan grunted and Ray looked to Fraser. "We can't just sit by and watch this happen. You're so sure we can beat them without an army, without taking advantage of an opportunity, fine. You figure it out, all right? You tell us what to do and we'll do it, right Stan?" 

Stan nodded. "If you can figure it out, we'll do it your way, but if not," he took a step toward Fraser and poked a finger at his collarbone. "We do it our way. That clear?" 

Fraser nodded. He knew they wouldn't need to resort to those plans, but what the boys had arranged could be helpful, if Benton could only see how. 

Tim walked up to his boys and ordered two of them to jump down and tie the cowboys up before taking them to the jail. "Where's the third one?" he asked another as he dismounted. 

"Just the two of 'em out there," he said. "When we rode up, they claimed he'd taken the girl for a walk to stretch her legs. We figured he must've gone off with those deputies since he wasn't there." 

Jim jumped from the fourth horse and joined Tim. "Well, he didn't. He's gone a course of his own," Tim said, looking concerned. 

Jim frowned and thought. A moment later, he snapped to attention. "Could only be one of two things by my calculations," Jim said. "Either he got yeller and took off or they sent him to bring in the judge." 

Tim considered a moment and knew Jim was right. "That limits our time then. I figure even on the tightest schedule, they can't make it back before night. That only gives us a few hours to get rid of them." 

"Think they'll bring help?" Jim asked. 

Tim nodded. He hadn't thought about that, but Jim was surely right. Jim and Tim consulted before motioning the boys to join them where they laid out their plans -- preparing for battle. 

23  
Francesca moved out into the street and looked at Dief. The animal had followed them into town, but made no attack on the humans. She was curious about the animal and headed toward home, patting her skirts to indicate he should follow. Dief jumped to his feet and obeyed. 

She watched as Samuel and Janice conversed with Tim. She could see Janice biting her lip and Samuel putting an arm around Tim, as if confiding in him. A moment later, Tim grabbed Samuel's arm and swung it behind his back. Frannie watched as Tim pushed Samuel toward the jail. She waited before approaching Janice. 

"What's going on?" Francesca asked, leaning in to speak softly. 

"Samuel tried to convince Tim that we weren't up to anything, but Tim didn't believe him. He tried convincing him that the men were on his side." 

Frannie looked horrified. "What will we do?" 

Glancing over her shoulder, Janice whispered. "I suppose we'll have to handle it." 

Francesca smiled and winked. The two women moved off the street and into an alley before discussing their opinions on possible solutions. They watched as Jim took another man toward the jail, then felt their hearts stop a second when they saw one of Tim's men carrying TNT toward the sheriff's office. Francesca gasped. 

Janice frowned, then looked intently to Francesca. "We better get to work fast." 

Francesca agreed and the women separated. 

24  
Fraser watched Tim shove Samuel into the cell. "This isn't really about him," Benton said. "It's between Jerrard and me." He paused. "Why don't you go get him and we'll straighten this all out?" 

Tim chuckled. "It was between you and Jerrard, but now it's between the law and the lawless." Tim stepped aside to let Jim pass with the man he put in a cell. 

Ray cleared his throat. "Tell you what, Tim. You get Jerrard. Sheriff here will go up against sheriff. You and Jim'll go up against Stan and myself." 

Jim moved beside Tim. "You think you're getting out that easy?" He turned to the door and watched the man enter with a box of explosives. "We've got much bigger plans for all of you." 

Stan looked nervously to Ray. Ray returned the look. The two then turned to their fearless leader. Benton watched the man with the dynamite carefully as he placed the box on the floor. The deputies could see the wheels of Benton's mind turning by his expression. 

The man with the dynamite opened the box and seemed to inventory the goods. A moment later he left. 

Fraser pushed at his lower lip with his tongue and took one deliberate step backward from Tim. Tim furrowed his brow. "What you up to?" 

Benton glanced at his deputies and shook his head. "Nothing," he replied. 

Tim put a hand on the butt of his gun. "What are you doing?" 

Benton shook his head again. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." 

Tim growled. "Well," he said, looking across at the box of dynamite, "Won't matter soon enough anyway." He chuckled and left as Jim motioned him to follow him out of the office. 

In a matter of moments, the man who had carried the dynamite returned, bearing another box. He placed it beside the first and began his work. Benton watched the man separating, making groups, dividing the flint and twisting fuses. 

Ray stepped back to the barred window and leaned beside it, then lowered his head. "What's your plan, sheriff?" he asked. 

Benton turned to face his balding deputy. "Pardon?" 

Stan jabbed at his neck with his thumb. "What do you mean 'pardon'? You're not going to fill us in on your plan?" 

Benton tugged his ear. "I don't have a plan." 

Looking angered, Stan straightened. "No plan? What was all that steppin' back and 'nothin' about?" 

Benton barely shrugged his shoulders, giving a smile that said he didn't know what they meant. 

Ray firmed his stance. "What? That wasn't some part of some master plan? We're going to die, aren't we? You're going to get us killed!" 

Stan stepped toward the sheriff. "If you aren't going to do anything than we..." 

"Well, hello, boys," Janice said, leading the way into the office, Frannie close behind. Janice noted the man working with explosives and stepped toward the cell. "Looks like you've gotten yourselves into a fine mess," she said. 

Francesca moved toward Stan and winked, giving him a smile. He recognized the look. She used it every time she was planning to weasel something out of him. Now, he hoped, it meant she was planning something else altogether. "We heard they're taking care of you," Francesca said softly, then let out a long breath. "You'll all be missed." She glanced at the man in the corner to make sure he was paying attention. "The women have already started making some plans." 

Janice smiled. "To honour your memories, of course," she added quickly. 

"Yes," Francesca agreed. "Don't you worry." 

Ray moved toward the bars. "It's going to be all right, ladies," he said softly. 

Janice nodded and the two women left. Ray and Stan watched them through the front window as they waited for a group of horses with riders to pass before crossing the street. When Stan saw them entering the saloon, he turned to Ray with a quizzical look. 

25  
Janice sat at a table near the corner and Francesca joined her. When Icecat saw the two lovely ladies sitting at a table, she approached them with surprise. "Is there something I can do for you ladies?" 

Janice nodded. "Yes. We'd like to speak with Jen, actually." 

Icecat regarded her with interest. "Oh?" 

Adding her affirmation, Francesca nodded. "Would you be a dear and find her for us?" 

Icecat smiled and took a seat at their table. "What on earth would you two want with Jen?" 

Janice cleared her throat. "I'd prefer to discuss it with her. Please?" 

Icecat stood slowly and headed toward the stairs. 

Meg sat on the lap of a very drunk man and watched the interchange with interest. Disappointed, she turned to her fare, only to see him approaching unconscious. She sighed and watched Icecat knocking lightly on Jen's door. 

It was several minutes before Jen appeared from behind a door. She stood at the top of the stairs and looked down at the two women before descending. Icecat followed when Jen joined the women at the table. 

As the drunken man finally lost all consciousness, Meg stood and took the money he'd left on the table for his drinks. She walked over to the other women. Icecat and Meg stood behind Jen. 

"I understand you wanted to see me?" Jen asked, leaving little room for civility. 

Janice nodded. "We have a proposition." 

26  
As if Stan hadn't been surprised enough, he watched the doors to the saloon for the next twenty minutes. During that time, Janice left and soon returned. Moments later, several ladies walked in casually. He hadn't seen true ladies mingling with whores so he took a moment to let his mind wrap around the fantasy. 

"Where's Dief?" Ray asked, breaking Stan's concentration. 

Benton looked at Ray. "Last time I saw him, he was following the women. He appears to have a penchant for the ladies." 

Stan chuckled. "I'll say. I would too if they treated me like that." 

Ray nodded his agreement, then noticed Benton's concentration on the explosives nearby. "What's your plan?" 

Stan frowned. "Already been over this. He doesn't have one, remember?" 

"Well, I'm still convinced that thing he did with Tim earlier was part of some grand scheme," Ray insisted. 

"Not a scheme, Ray," Benton piped in, watching as the man who had been working with the dynamite finally left, carrying one of the newly packed boxes. "It simply put him at ease." 

"At ease?" Stan chided. "He looked anything but eased about it." 

Benton watched out the window for who might return. Someone would be in soon to light the fireworks and he hoped something else happened before that time. "Tim anticipated that I would have something designed to thwart his plans. I just made him feel more comfortable by allowing him to believe there was a way." 

Stan stiffened. "So he'll be spending all his time trying to figure out his loophole buying us time to come up with something?" 

"Precisely," Benton replied. He looked up and watched the man walk back in. He laid the dynamite out in a pattern that made it obvious he was planning to blow up the entire Sheriff's office. It was likely the resulting fire would spread, in fact, to the neighbouring buildings. This concerned him. The blacksmith was across the alley so it would be safe unless strong winds blew, but the air had been mostly still all day. On the other side, however, the building connected to the bank and further along was the livery. Both, he concluded, would be beneficial to Tim, Jim, and Jerrard if the men cleaned them out first. 

"But you still haven't come up with something, Sheriff. It didn't buy us anything." Ray insisted, interrupting Benton's thoughts, in a suppressed voice. 

"Perhaps," Benton replied more quietly. "The ladies did seem to have some strange behaviours, however," he added more confidently. 

Stan nodded. "Don't know what, but I'm ready to bet they've got something up their sleeves." 

Benton tugged at his ear. He wasn't sure what it was either, but hoped it would work. He hated nothing more than placing his trust in others. 

After a few more minutes, Benton watched Meg step from the saloon. Two women followed her, but separated at the street. Meg continued toward the jail while the other two headed the direction Tim and Jim had earlier taken. 

Benton turned to Samuel. "Perhaps you can enlighten us on this situation," he said, stepping toward the bars separating the two cells. 

Samuel shrugged. "If I had even a clue, I'd have spoken up." 

Stan moved beside Benton. "Think maybe Meg is in cahoots with your Janice?" 

Samuel shook his head, then paused. "Well, who knows? Janice has always been good at surprises." 

Stan nodded, understanding. He turned to watch Meg step through the doors and smile at Benton broadly before stopping behind the man who was braiding his fuses. She pinched at her skirt and lifted it to her waist before pointing her toe through and leaning in. 

"Hello," she said smoothly. "I'm Meg. I know we haven't met because I would have remembered you." 

The man turned, took her in, then went back to work. "Maybe later, Sweetcakes." 

Meg leaned against the wall and looked melodramatically dejected. "I'm just looking for a name here." 

"Jack." 

She squatted down beside him, pulling her skirt up onto her knees. "Nice to meet you, Jack." She put a hand gently on knee. "What are you doing there?" 

Jack ignored her. 

"Hey, I'm on your side, you know. I'm not looking to interrupt you. I just thought I could keep you company while you work, then we could celebrate later over at the saloon." She paused when he glanced at her, then leaned her face close enough to his that he'd be able to feel her breath. "That doesn't sound so bad, does it?" 

Jack smiled a little. "I suppose not," he said meekly. "So long as you don't slow me down." 

"So what is it you're planning?" 

"I'm not the planner. Just doing my job with the explosives. Sort of a specialty of mine." 

"I love a good bonfire. Looks like enough here to blow up - well, I don't know. How much would this blow up?" 

"Pretty much just this office. Should start a nice fire that'll spread down though," he replied, motioning west. 

"Why would you want to get rid of the whole place?" she asked, blinking. "Wouldn't you want there to be someplace left for you to shop and gamble and enjoy my company?" 

Jack shook his head. "Naw. Shouldn't hit the blacksmith because of that alley so from there up it's safe. From here down to the livery isn't. After that, there's nothin' until hotel. It'll stop burnin' before then." 

Meg cleared her throat. "All for these boys? I don't see why they don't just hang 'em or shoot 'em." 

"Tim's plannin' to rob the bank and steal the horses before they blow it all up. Then they can use this space to build themselves some nice headquarters. Sort of kills two birds with one stone." 

"I should say," Meg replied. "More than two," she added under her breath. 

27  
Meg tried to pry more information from the man, but Jack wouldn't have it. Tim and Jim had put him on a strict time schedule so he finally escorted Meg from the building and closed the door. Meg allowed one more glance at the boys before turning on her heel and walking back to the saloon. 

Stan watched across the street until he saw Francesca guide Dief from the saloon. The mere sight of her set his back straight and his eyes glazed over. Ray watched his partner with interest. "Stan?" 

Stan shook his head and turned. "Yeah?" he said, sounding defeated. 

It took a moment for Ray to think of a reply. Taking a step toward the bars, he looked across at Francesca. "She'll come around. She just needs some time." 

Stan nodded before turning his attentions to Benton. "I think she's got her sights set a little higher," he replied softly. Benton continued to stare straight ahead, the wheels turning. 

As the sun beat down on the street, Francesca glanced at its location. Stan watched her every move. She turned to Janice who now stood at the saloon entrance and, once Janice finished talking, Francesca nodded, left the wolf, and went back inside. 

Benton watched the animal with great interest. Ray noticed it first and immediately jumped in. "Got a plan formulating?" 

Benton squinted, then nodded. "Perhaps," he said very softly, keeping Jack from their loop. "It would require this gentleman's leaving our presence and Dief joining." 

"The wolf?" Stan asked, skeptical. 

Benton only nodded. The two realized that speaking about details would be risky with Jack perhaps being able to hear any word so they nodded also and left it at that. 

28  
Janice stood at the batwing doors and watched the men gathering across the street in front of the bank. She glanced at her weapons, then turned to the ladies. "Everyone ready?" she asked. 

In a joint effort, all the ladies and all the whores stood together behind Janice. They each bore arms collected from assorted places: husband's collections, personal hand guns for starters. 

"Ready," they replied all at once. 

29  
"Hey, boys!" Janice yelled as she propped the rifle to her shoulder and aimed it at Tim. 

Tim and Jim spun, their gangs following suit and freezing in their steps. Stunned for a moment, Tim was silent, then he let out hysterical laughter. "What the hell are you women doing?" he said at last. 

"Making you pay for your crimes," Jen replied, stepping beside Janice to take aim at Jim. 

"You should all get back to your homes and get ready to bury your husbands," Tim replied, waving a dismissive hand at the group, then pointing at Jen. "You and all your women should get back on their backs where they belong." 

A clacking sound filled the street and was quickly followed by a bang. Tim collapsed, grabbing at his leg. "You bitch!" he yelled. 

"Only when I have to be," Jen replied. "Something tells me that you're going to drive me to it." 

Tim drew his weapon and aimed it at Jen. Another blast and blood spewed as he lost his hand. Tim screeched. "Go ahead and finish me off, then!" he yelled as all the other boys drew their weapons. They waited. Whether they needed a command or some sign that it was all right to shoot women, none of them were sure. All they could manage was aiming at them. 

"I wouldn't give you the pleasure," Janice replied, taking a few steps forward as the gang of women followed her lead. "I'm going to let you see all your men die before I finish you off," she added, taking a shot that took down one man. 

It was enough to thaw the bodies around Jim and Tim. They took aim and began to fire. The women returned fire. Dust and smoke filled the street. Janice went down, but the shoulder wound didn't slow her. She shot again with her good arm and sent another man down. 

Jack heard the melee from the street and jumped to his feet, leaving the explosives to go out and see what was happening. With the door open, Dief ran in. Benton squatted against the bars as his new companion sat just outside. He glanced at Stan and Ray, then looked Dief in the eye. "We need your help." 

30  
Jim fell beside Tim, Meg not allowing him the pleasure of seeing his men dying first. He'd taken a shot at her and hit her gun just as she'd fired at him, causing her bullet to go straight into his chest. The women were boldly progressing toward the men, pushing them against the walls of the bank. Jack was dead nearly as soon as he stepped outside, Jen seeing the movement from the corner of her eye and plucking him off quickly. 

The hems of the ladies' long dresses were beginning to darken in the puddles of blood. Their boots became sticky with each muddy step. Still they moved on, losing none of their own and sustaining only a few injuries. 

Meanwhile, Dief was bringing bits and pieces of the explosive supplies to Benton who worked quickly placing the appropriate powders and fuses in the lock. "I certainly wish they hadn't taken matters so violently into their own hands," Benton said as he worked. 

Stan shrugged. "You know women. They've got a lot of anger to work off and all." 

"Got that right," Ray chuckled. "Besides, there aren't many other options, Benny, er, Sheriff," he added. "Had to do something before all of us ended up in bits and pieces." 

"But using weaponry and killing all of the men? I'm not sure...." 

"Well, get over it," Stan jumped in. "You're lucky we had them women to help us out at all." 

Benton finished tying the fuse and threw the extra explosives to the back of the cell before sending the two men into the corner. Fraser then shoed Dief who moved into the doorway. Preparing flint, Benton froze when the animal whined. He looked up in time to see a few men come around the corner and into the sheriff's office for cover. Obscuring his own face, Benton moved quickly to light the explosives. 

One loud (((BOOM))) later and the men lay unconscious on the floor as the cell door flew open from the power of the blast. Benton stepped through, followed by Stan and Ray. The constant banging of guns outside was deafening when they cautiously entered the street. Only a few men were left. As the last of them scattered or fell dead, the women dropped their weapons. Janice stepped up to Tim and put a bloody boot on his chest. Meg gently kicked Jim to make sure he was dead. 

Tim looked through squinted eyes at Janice. "Time to finish me off," he said weakly, a pool of blood having grown around him. Janice glared at him. "That's still too easy for what you deserve," she said. "Where's Jerrard?" 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Jerrard!" she insisted with a kick. "I know he's hiding out somewhere just waiting to organize another gang. You still don't realize you didn't mean a damned thing to him, do you?" 

"He wanted the best and that's what he got," Tim replied, trying to renew his strength despite the incredible blood loss. 

Janice lowered herself. "It wasn't about the best, it was about being handy. Now where's he hiding?" she asked again, pointing the gun at his chest. 

"Go ahead and shoot. You know I'm not going to live anyway." 

Janice cocked her head. "Sure, but it's the difference between telling me and a slow agonizing death, isn't it?" 

Tim swallowed. "I don't know," he said at last. 

Janice poked him with the barrel and he flinched. "I swear to God, I don't know. Jim was the one who holed him up somewhere." 

"Damn," Janice breathed just as someone placed a hand on her shoulder. She straightened to see Benton. 

"This wasn't necessary," Benton said, not knowing what else to say. 

Janice felt warm with rage. She felt she'd saved his life and countless others, but in the aftermath he says it wasn't necessary? Fuming, she was at a loss for words. She tossed her gun aside and stepped back, turned and, after a couple steps, stopped to turn back. "Someone had to do something," she said. "Besides, you now owe me a favour. We'll discuss the terms of our agreement later." 

"I'm sorry?" he asked, astounded. 

Janice just turned and walked away. 

31  
Benton looked past Janice when he noted a swirling of dust heading toward town. Taking a step into the street, he squinted. It took him a moment to recognize the cowboy who was riding beside a taller, larger man. As they neared, the taller man dismounted before Fraser. 

"You Sheriff Fraser?" 

Benton nodded. 

The man held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you," he said. "I'm Judge Harding Welsh." Though the man had signed his transfer papers, the two had never actually met. His voice was gruff, but he seemed a gregarious man. He took only a moment to assess the damage and motioned to it. "Looks as though you could have used help." 

Benton swallowed hard and tugged at the collar of his shirt. "Ah, well, I believe that, although the women of this town did an outstanding job taking care of themselves, the effort may have been better spent in another capacity." 

"Pardon?" Welsh said, then waved a dismissive hand. "Never mind. I've got the Marshal riding in to give a hand and I'll be staying in town for a few days." 

Benton stood at attention and nodded. "Perhaps you would like to make arrangements at the hotel before a briefing." 

Welsh shook his head and waved to Dewey. "Boy, take my bag to the hotel for me, if you would. I think we've got more pressing matters." 

Dewey nodded, took the saddlebags over his shoulder, and turned for the hotel. Welsh continued without even glancing at Dewey. "I hope you have something substantial." 

"I believe so, sir," Benton began, holding a courteous arm toward the Sheriff's office and standing aside to let Welsh pass. The judge nodded his appreciation and stepped inside. He stopped in the doorway, however, and as Benton stepped beside him, he was greeted by two ladies he'd seen around town. 

The judge nodded at the women. "Well, if it isn't my favourite twins," he said, smiling broadly. "Angie, Tanya, how have you ladies been?" 

Angie stepped forward. "We're quite well," she said, returning the smile. 

"I haven't seen you since you moved to the canyons. Why don't you ever come to visit me?" 

Tanya chuckled. "Well, you know how difficult it is to get away." 

"How's the restaurant you ladies were going to open?" 

"Much better since the new sheriff came to town," Angie replied. "We came to speak with you, Harding." Her face became solemn. 

"I don't like the sounds of that," Welsh returned, almost playfully. "I'll come by the place after the Sheriff and I finish our business. Would that be all right?" 

Tanya nodded. "Thanks, Harding." The women took their leave and Welsh watched them carefully pass the street. He turned back to Benton. "You'll never find a finer pair of women." He looked carefully at Benton's questioning look. "I was friends with their father for years. When he passed on, I kept an eye on them until they decided to move here. I'll never know why they wanted to come here of all places." He paused, realizing he'd been rambling. "Ah, well, then. Let's talk about what we're going to do here." 

32  
Soon, Benton had Welsh completely filled in on the happenings since he'd arrived. Welsh was dismayed at the audacity of the man before him, but admired the way he believed he could clean up the town. The two of them discussed the options, Welsh walking on the practical side while Benton ventured into idealism. Finally they found some common ground and Welsh agreed to stay in town long enough to make some necessary changes. 

When Ray, followed by Stan, finally entered the room to see if there was any progress, Welsh turned to him immediately. Benton took a deep breath and tried to choose his words. "It appears we may be in need of, well, perhaps we should consider the possibility of, uh." 

Welsh couldn't hear anymore of it. Benton didn't want to admit to an illegal gathering, of sorts, so the judge offered help. "We need you boys to round us up a posse. Might have to deputize the whole bunch to keep the sheriff here happy, but we're huntin' for a certain vigilante." 

"Jerrard?" Stan said in surprise. "Sure, we could go hunting, but Christy knows exactly where he is." 

"Pardon?" Benton asked, moving slowly to his feet. 

Ray shrugged. "Sure. Christy just caught us in the street, said she overheard something important about Jerrard and thought we should know. She said she wanted to tell you personally, Sheriff, so we told her to meet us over at the saloon." 

"Did she specifically mention his whereabouts?" 

Stan shook his head. "Naw. We were just left to assume." 

Benton nodded. "Judge, it seems perhaps we are better off separating for now. You can speak with the twins while I see what information Christy has acquired. We'll head out with our posse at nightfall. The covering of night should help us sneak up on him in case he's got some more men with him." Benton turned to Stan. "Anyone see what happened to Tim? Looks like he's not out in the alley anymore." 

Stan frowned. "He isn't. Couple men carried him off. I heard the doc's managed to keep him alive. Wounds weren't as bad as it looked." 

Benton took a deep breath. "He in any condition to be a threat?" 

Ray shook his head. "I doubt it." 

Benton nodded. "Let's congregate down the alley at dusk," he replied, motioning to the alley running alongside the sheriff's office. 

33  
Judge Welsh stepped through the doors of the small quiet restaurant to see the Marshal and a few men seated at a table. Dewey, Huey, and Louie were also present. Louie rubbed his forehead and stood. "We had to ask the twins to get you here alone because their watching us." 

"Who's watching?" Welsh asked immediately. 

" _Them_ " Louie said, tilting his head and looking stern. "Several of the boys got away from that gunfight. They regrouped and now they're looking for revenge." 

Welsh furrowed his brow and waited. 

"Marilea decided she wasn't going to miss an opportunity to see the sheriff. Apparently she was following us. We didn't notice her so she must have been staying a ways back and keeping quiet." 

"I told her to stay put!" Welsh said angrily. "That girl never listens." 

"Well, they found her following us, Judge. They snatched her and now they're holding her for ransom. Told us to come here and talk to you." 

"I don't have any money on me," the Judge replied. "Only a few dollars to buy me some meals and pay for my room. What'd they expect." 

"Not that kind of ransom," Louie replied. "Something bigger." 

"Not that kind? What sort of ransom are they wantin'?" 

"Sheriff Fraser," Louie replied, playing spokesman. "They want you to bring Benton to them dead." 

Welsh frowned, his mind already racing with ideas. 

"They give you 24 hours," Louie added. "They want you to give us word within 24 hours and then they'll contact you with the details of where to make the exchange." 

34  
Stan and Ray entered the saloon first, asking around for men to join their posse. Nat and Beth, two of the townswomen volunteered when they heard their husbands being asked. "Look," Nat said. "We took care of most of them today while the men were hiding out and you boys were in jail. We can sure as hell take care of Jerrard." 

"I believe you can," Stan said, admiringly. "It's just that a group of men would probably be better than a group of women." 

"Excuse me?" Beth asked. "How so?" 

Ray shrugged. "Hate to admit it, ladies, but when Jerrard sees a group riding up to take him, a group of women will have him laughing his ass off, not fearing his safety." 

"Isn't that the perfect time to take him?" Nat asked. 

"After all, if he's on the run, you have to chase him down. If he's on the floor laughing, as you say, you can walk right up and take him," Beth added. 

Stan and Ray looked dumbfounded at each other. "Well, they've got a point," Ray said. 

"Sure do," Stan replied, then turned back to them. "Then help us round up the rest of the posse." 

Beth and Nat nodded before dispersing. 

Benton approached Christy, a saloon girl, who sat on a stool, her lovely legs showing him the way. He moved beside her and focused on the counter's surface. "I hear you might be able to help us out." 

Christy nodded. "I overheard some men talking. A couple of them are going out to see Jerrard, let him know what's happened." 

Benton nodded his understanding as Christy placed her hand on his. Clearing his throat, he took his hand away and tugged at his shirt. Christy shrugged, then continued. "Well, the two their sending didn't know where the hideout was. Apparently Jim only told one of his men. So he told the boys that Jerrard is camped out in the canyons. He says if you go up to the third mine, then head away from it, there'd be a dense cluster of pines. Just past the pines it clears and there are two more clusters. Go to the one up the mountain and he's been hiding out in a little makeshift cabin. It's hidden in the trees so it's hard to find, but it's there." 

Benton nodded again. "Is that everything?" 

Christy nodded. 

"No mention of where the other boys are going?" 

Christy shook her head. "That's all I got for you." 

"Thank you kindly," Benton replied, then focused his attentions on the room once more. He saw Stan and Ray conversing with a table of women before he left the saloon and went to make more preparations. 

35  
At dusk, Stan and Ray found Benton on a horse in the alley. No one else was around so they rode close. 

Stan looked around to see if anyone was watching, then smiled. "You find out where Jerrard is?" 

Benton nodded. "We're going up the canyons. It could take all night. He's probably got two more men with him so we'll need to be careful." Stan nodded and the three sat silent. Benton finally broke the silence. "Are we the only three who will be handling this? Where is the judge?" 

"Dunno," Ray said. "Haven't seen him. We did manage to gather a posse, though." 

"Oh?" Benton said. "When will the men be arriving?" 

Stan shook his head. "No boys. Ladies. The women wanted to join the fight." At that, he explained the conversation they'd had with Beth and Nat to Fraser. Fraser skeptically accepted the explanation and they waited. 

Judge Welsh turned the corner and stepped into the dim light of the alley. The moon cast shadows on his face which seemed ominous. 

"Need a horse, Judge?" Stan asked, turning to the man. 

Welsh shook his head and moved closer. "It looks like I better take care of some business here in town. You men'll have to handle Jerrard. I'm getting too old for this sort of thing." 

Benton nodded. "Understood," he said quickly. "We can take care of things. It might be better not to leave the town unattended." 

Welsh frowned. "Yeah. Look, you boys better hurry, though. I'll need you back by sunup. I can't explain right now, but I'll need you all back by dawn." 

Furrowing his brow, Benton turned his horse. "Something wrong, Judge?" 

"No, no," Judge Welsh replied. "I just have some plans which involve you. You get back quick, all right?" 

With a nod, Benton agreed. 

"We'll do our best," Ray offered. 

The judge then turned and left the boys waiting in the alley for their group to gather. He walked slowly to the livery. Stepping inside, he saw a large wagon. He found the owner and pointed to the wagon. "I'm gonna need that and a hitch." 

"Sure you need all that?" the man asked. 

The judge nodded. "Gotta carry a dead body and I'm not quite sure what's in store for me. I'll pay up front." 

The man agreed and prepared the wagon for him. 

36  
It was still dark when Welsh received word from Huey that the sheriff was riding back into town. He hurried from his hotel room and scurried to the wagon. Pulling it around behind the sheriff's office, he waited. When he heard the group in the jail, locking a drunk Jerrard and two of his men behind bars, he moved into the alley. Several women left the sheriff's office only minutes later and the only voices left inside were those of men. 

Welsh hurried into the office and looked at the jail cells. "He's alive," Welsh stated. 

"Yes," Benton replied. "We saw no need to kill them." 

The judge frowned. "Come with me, Sheriff. We've got some business to discuss." 

Benton looked confused, but followed. Stan and Ray were just behind. Leading the way back to the wagon, Judge Welsh folded his arms. "All right, here's the situation," he began. "They've got my niece. Holding her ransom for Benton's body. I planned to give them Jerrard's body instead, but you've left me without that option." 

"What about one of the dead men from the gunfight," Ray offered. "We could use one of them for our corpse." 

Welsh nodded. "Only one problem. They've been gathered up and taken to the church for safekeeping. If someone sees you stealing one of those bodies, it's bound to get back to them. Louie says someone's in town watching to make sure this goes off without a hitch." 

"No idea who, though?" Stan asked. Welsh shook his head. 

Benton offered his solution quickly. "Ray, Stan, you two are going to have to take one of the bodies. Just make sure no one, I mean no one, sees you. You come back and leave it in the wagon for the judge." He paused. "Ok, I'll make myself scarce, going on foot back to the Vecchio house. I'll stay there until you boys come to get me, that clear?" 

"What about us? They'll think we're witnesses. Wouldn't the judge kill us too?" 

Benton shook his head. "Once you drop off the body, you'll have to tell someone you heard a noise and saw Judge Welsh putting my body in the wagon. Can you do that?" 

Stan smiled. "Wouldn't that be lying?" he asked, knowing how Benton felt about such things. 

With a frown, Benton cracked his neck. "Not lying so much as diverting attention," he replied. "We need to buy time. After you get the rumor started, you follow the judge. Get the marshal and those cowhands to follow you. Their... diversion should be that they are going to report the judge for his crimes. Come get me and we'll all track the judge." He turned to Welsh. "When you get your niece back, we'll be there to back you up. They're sure to figure out it's not my body really quick. If they insist on checking the body first, stall. We'll figure out some way to get her out safely." 

"Ok," the judge agreed. "You boys go get me a body." He paused. "Sheriff? Perhaps you could lay there in the wagon and pretend to be dead. I'll fire my gun so that if anyone comes to check us out, they'll see you until we get the body in here. Make sure you boys bring a bloody cloth to cover the body. That should help enhance the effect." 

Stan and Ray nodded, then rode toward the church. 

A gunshot sounded, but the buildings muted it. A few townspeople took note, but most were at the saloon, having too much fun to hear it. 

37  
Benton knocked very softly on the back door to the Vecchio residence. There was no answer for several minutes, so he tapped again. It was several moments before he could see Francesca's inquisitive brown eyes peer through the window, then brighten when she recognized the face on the other side. Quickly the door opened. 

Benton took a moments notice of the shotgun Francesca had propped against her arm inside her elbow. "I hope I didn't frighten you," he offered quickly. 

Francesca followed his gaze, then let out a breath. "When I'm home alone, well, you understand." 

"Yes, I do," Benton replied, glad that she was prepared to defend herself. "I must begin by telling you that my presence here should not be announced." Seeing the confusion, he continued. "I also would not want you to worry if you heard of my demise. I will gladly explain, but you should behave as would be normal. If you have any plans for this evening, they should be followed." 

Francesca shook her head. "I was just reading in the parlor. I expect Ray should be home soon?" 

Benton shook his head. "I'm afraid he has business to handle." 

"Oh," Francesca replied. "Well, you want to come into the parlor with me and tell me everything?" 

Shaking his head, Benton took Francesca's arm and guided her into the kitchen. "There are several large windows facing the street in the parlor, I'm afraid. We should stay in here where there is only the one small window. Is that all right?" 

Francesca nodded with a smile. She would agree to anything he had to say. He began to speak, leaving her hanging on every word. The entire story amazed her, as did the way he spoke and the shade of blue in his eyes. 

38  
Stan glared at the Marshal, but knew he was right. Benton coming out into the open was far too big a risk. They would have to leave him at the Vecchio house now, leave him wondering where they were and if things were all right. It was best for the safety of the judge's niece, Marilea. 

The rumor mill had quickly run that the Sheriff had been shot by none other than the judge. Soon it had taken on a life of it's own and the most current version Stan had overheard was that there had been a terrible argument. No one understood that the judge was being forced to commit the crime which he didn't actually commit. Stan's mind spun around the oddity of facts. He turned to Ray. "We should get going. Judge Welsh left nearly 30 minutes ago. We'll need to hurry if we are going to make it in time." 

"Huey has already told some of the men at the saloon that we are going to report the judge's injustice. We'll gather and leave shortly." 

Ray nodded and mounted his horse, moving beside Stan who was already on his. The two rode away quickly, making no show to bring suspicions. 

Not long after, the marshal, his men, and the cowboys rode down the center of the main road of town before leaving it. 

39  
"Well, well," said a tall dark man who had identified himself as Jack. "I'm very impressed." 

"Where's my niece," Welsh insisted firmly. 

"In due time," Jack replied. "My men have her safely nearby. They should be here any moment." Jack walked around the wagon, examining the bloodstained cloth. "How many times did you shoot him?" he asked, motioning to the deep redness. 

"Only once," Welsh replied. "Must of got the heart. He left a lot of blood. Believe me, it's a real mess." 

Jack held up his hand. "I'm sure it is." A noise distracted him and he turned, watching the group approaching. "Well, if it isn't the lovely Marilea now. It certainly would have been a waste to kill her." 

Welsh furrowed his brow. "I'd like to get this over with. By the time I get home, they'll have heard about this mess and I'd like time to pack up and get out of town before I'm arrested." 

"The murdering judge. It's so fitting. Although, I'm a bit surprised you weren't planning to claim some sort of self defense. You are a judge, the people will surely believe you." 

Welsh shook his head. "Sooner I get all this behind me, the better." 

Jack nodded and motioned to his men. They moved about the wagon they had ridden alongside, then suddenly Marilea more or less fell from the crowd of them. Welsh quickly saw that she was injured and jumped from the wagon. The men moved away as he knelt beside her. "Are you all right?" 

Marilea nodded, a bruised cheek and dirtied face staring back at him. She placed her hand on her cheek. "Other than this, there's a little pain in my leg, but I'll be all right." 

"Can you run?" 

She shook her head. "They pushed me down and it twisted my leg. I don't think I could run, but I could try." 

Welsh shook his head. "You won't need to. It'll be ok." 

Marilea smiled, showing her faith in him. He helped her stand. 

Jack motioned to the body and one of the men stepped forward. Reaching into the wagon, he threw the cover back. The man had been shot several times, blood covering him completely. Nearly everything was blown beyond recognition. Jack reached in and grabbed the dead man's arm. "This is not Fraser!" 

The judge looked to the group worried. "Are you calling me a liar?" 

As one of the men leaned in for a look, he frowned and asked, "How can you tell?" 

"This is Smitt! Look!" He held the hand up and pointed to the middle finger. The finger was only a stub. While it had been blown off, Smitt lost the finger tip years before and it had grown over with skin. Jack could see that the finger was that of Smitt. "Sheriff Fraser has all of his fingers." 

The men turned to the judge and Marilea, pulling their guns on them. "Where is he?" Jack insisted. 

"You'll never find out!" came Stan's voice from behind the trees. Jack turned in a circle, watching as several men came from the trees, pulling cocked guns on them. "Drop your weapons! Hands in the air! All of you!" Stan demanded. 

40  
Marilea and her uncle drove one wagon into town. Half of the men were tightly roped in back. Following them was the other wagon with the rest of the men. Stan and Ray sat at the front as the cowboys sat in back, holding guns on them. The marshal and his men rode behind and around the group, holding guns to prevent foul play. 

As they came into town, there were a few cheers. Benton came from the Vecchio house and helped put all the law offenders in the jail cells. Once they were locked, an annoyed Benton grabbed Stan. "What was the meaning of leaving me behind?" 

"We didn't know who was spying for them. Didn't you think it was risky to show your face before the deal was done?" 

Benton nodded. "I suppose, but someone should have told me." 

"What's the matter? Didn't you have a good time with Francesca?" 

Fraser looked at the ground and before he could answer, Janice grabbed him and spun him. "I'm glad the rumors were false," she began, "but we have a little business." 

Fraser looked relieved and stepped away from Stan. "Well, ma'am, what can I do for you?" 

Janice smiled. "In order to get all the help we needed, I was forced to make a deal with the women of the saloon on your behalf." 

Furrowing his brow, Benton was now worried what sort of deal had been made! 

"Remember, now, Sheriff. These women helped to save your life!" Janice cleared her throat as the judge approached. 

"Thank you, sheriff, ma'am. You helped save this town." Judge Welsh shook Benton's hand slowly and nodded to Janice. "What can I do to show my gratitude?" 

Janice looked at Benton. "You see, I told them that you'd let them go about business as usual. No more locking up Jen, Ice, Meg. You'll let them be." 

"I can't do that if they break the law," Benton replied. 

"You wouldn't make me a liar, would you?" Janice insisted sternly. 

Benton looked uncomfortable and Welsh jumped in. "They wouldn't be breaking any laws, now, if I made an ordinance." 

"An ordinance?" Janice asked. 

"Yeah. I can make up and sign some legal documents limiting all activity to remain on the premises of the Gochick Saloon." He turned to Benton. "Is that agreeable?" 

"I'm not certain that is an acceptable alternative to the law," Benton argued. 

"Good. Consider it done. I'm a judge. I'll put my signature to it and it can't be argued," he replied. "Additionally, if I make the ordinance, no one can convict them on those grounds." 

As Benton started to protest he found himself alone, watching Janice and Judge Welsh walk slowly toward the saloon. 

**THE END**

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End The Cowboy Way by Laura Lee Snowee:

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